


hot-faced (lamb woman)

by veneziacandle



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asmo being a hoe, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Explicit Language, Français | French, In-Game Dialogue until i decide otherwise, MC has a name/face/personality, MC is a stand user, MC is bisexual (bc we deserve female LIs and female characters in this game dammit), Multi, No beta we die like lilith, Recreational Drug Use, References to Canon, References to Drugs, Self-Indulgent, Sentient Stands (JoJo), Smoking, Solomon and MC chaos supremacy, Stand Arrows (JoJo), Stone Ocean ended differently, Suggestive Themes, this idea came to me while sleep deprived so now i'm going to make it everyone else's problem
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 75,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26512267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veneziacandle/pseuds/veneziacandle
Summary: It was supposed to be a clear-cut situation. Take in the non-magical human, make sure she stays out of trouble, and make it through one year without her being eaten.And yet, out of all of the files to have so conveniently landed at Lucifer's feet that fateful night in his study, it just had to be the one featuring a human with a rather...bizarre gift.Now with a Spotify playlist of all musical references: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BeUhSRYWflpi4NoU7k8kk
Relationships: Asmodeus/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Diavolo/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Lucifer/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character/Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character/Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Original Female Character(s)/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), past Original Male Character(s)/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 68
Kudos: 134





	1. Desjardins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Diavolo has a dream. Salomé Desjardins has missed her flight. Mammon has a human to babysit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so cursed i am so sorry
> 
> title of the fic is from the margaux song of the same name

A roll of the neck, arms stretching over her head, fingers temporarily weaving together as she sighs, opening her eyes again to once again stare out the window at the lightening sky and the planes littered about on the tarmac. Lofi music pulses softly in Salomé’s ears as she lowers her arms, recrosses her legs, and returns her gaze to the notes in front of her. _Man, fuck these crack of dawn flights. Why’d Oz have to book this one? I mean, I know London is five hours ahead, so I’ll get there in the late evening...but it’ll be so hard to sleep on the plane and be refreshed for the night now that day is coming, people will have their windows open...granted, not like there’s a lot of people here._

Sure enough, she glances around the immediate area again. There are only about 20 people sitting around in various parts of the terminal, mostly sleeping or occupied with their devices. The closest one is a good 10 feet away, a sleeping man. It’s so early that almost all of the little stores and restaurants haven’t even opened yet.

And then there’s _something_ in the air, a low hum, sudden heat.

Salomé has never been struck by lightning, but Beatrice had before they met, and told her what it felt like, one night (long before unceremoniously dumping her over text and suspiciously dropping off the face of the planet) as Salomé had been tracing the red tree-like scars on her neck and chest: “My hair was standing on end, my hands couldn’t stop sweating. And there was this buzzing...”

She stands, instantly turning off her music while gathering her notes to her chest and grabbing the handle of her suitcase with her other hand, getting ready to run, looking up involuntarily— _wait._ _Lightning can’t strike through a roof._ _And it’s not even fuckin’ raining out!_ Salomé blinks, once, twice—the feeling isn’t something brought on by the four and a half hours of sleep she managed to get before calling an Uber to take her to the airport.

 _Another...? No. It doesn’t feel like that. Regardless, no one’s getting their hands on the cargo._ Salomé swings her head around once more, clutching her papers and luggage tighter—

And then the ground is gone, the airport is literally _melting_ around her, and she doesn’t even have time to say anything, and it’s not even like she can use her _ability_ to latch onto something because _oh God oh fuck there’s literally nothing to hold onto is this how I die am I going to be falling forever and what the hell what is this heat..._

Just as suddenly as the airport around her had melted away, something else is coming into focus, but she doesn’t have time to even take it in before she finally lands in a sitting position (there’s no lasting pain, it’s as if she was only falling for less than a second) on top of her suitcase. _It’s so dark, but at least I’m not falling,_ she thinks, blinking several times and moving her hair out of her face. When her eyes adjust, it’s evident that she’s in what looks like some sort of ancient-styled courtroom, all purple, black, and gold, with tall windows looking out on a dark and starry sky. _Why is the moon so big?_ Another moment, and she realizes that she isn’t alone. Several men are sitting and watching her. The one sitting in the seat of the chief judge—a tall, tanned man with reddish-brown hair and a bright red coat—is smiling, and he begins to speak.

“Welcome to the Devildom, Salomé.”

 _Welcome to the what now?_ Despite everything, all Salomé can manage to do is stare up at him and arch an eyebrow, chalking it up to shock, as she slowly stands up. _Play nice. No one will hurt you if you play nice and keep your cool._ “...excuse me, sir?”

The smile doesn’t drop, and he stands up, beginning to make his way down towards her. “...Oh, pardon me, Feeling a bit shocked, are we? Well, that's understandable. You’ve only just arrived, after all. As a human, it will probably take a little while for you to adjust to the things here in Devildom.”

 _As a human?_ This man looks human enough, and so do the others sitting in the seats below where he originally was. But there’s just something...off. Maybe it’s how wide his smile is, maybe it’s how the gazes of the other men are a little too sharp. _Can they smell fear?_ There’s certainly an _air_ about them, something that gives her the sense that with one wrong move she could be ripped to shreds. _No, not could be,_ Salomé muses as she tilts her head to the side, trying to look as unbothered as possible _. Would be._

“I suppose I should start by introducing myself,” he says, stopping in front of her and holding out his hand to shake, golden eyes glittering. _Here goes nothing._ In the several seconds it takes for him to do that and for her to extend her hand and take his to shake, several ghostly, practically translucent vines bearing white and purple flowers emerge from her hand and wrap around his. Immediately, her mind is flooded with an almost overwhelming sense of calm and genuine warmth, no hint of maliciousness towards her at all. _How the fuck is this a demon? What sense does this make?_ The vines dissipate as they let go of each other, but Salomé’s questions do not. _It seems that he isn’t able to see it..._ “My name is Diavolo. I am the ruler of all demons, and all here know of me. And someday soon, I will be crowned king of the Devildom.”

_Wait, the ruler of Hell is Italian? I mean...well, he has a Mediterranean tan, he could pass for it. Southern Italian, maybe._

“This is the Royal Academy of Diavolo, though we just call it RAD. You’re standing inside the assembly hall, the very heart of RAD. This is where we officers of the student council hold our meetings and conduct our business. I’m the president of said council.”

 _Why would demons have to go to school? And more importantly..._ “Why am I here, sir?”

“I will explain everything to you,” a new voice says, and Salomé diverts her attention from the ruler of Hell— _sorry, the Devildom...who the fuck named it that—_ to the speaker. A tall, pale man, with dark hair and stern eyes. _If I could draw, and someone asked me to design the Devil but making him look human, it would look like him._

“Salomé, this is Lucifer. He is a demon and the Avatar of Pride. He’s also the vice president of the student council and my right-hand man...and not just in title, I assure you. Beyond that, he’s also my most trusted friend.”

_I think I hear my mother screaming somewhere._

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Diavolo.” Lucifer then turns to Salomé, and the latter is instantly reminded of the more refined men who come into her work at the casino: the ones who get the private gaming rooms, are always wearing designer suits, can lose thousands at her table without batting an eye, and while having handsome smiles and a habit of tipping her and the other dealers well when they’re winning, _distinctly_ give her the vibe they’ve killed at least one person. “Speaking on behalf of the entire student body at this great and storied school of ours, I offer you a most heartfelt welcome, Salomé.”

 _Why would the student body be welcoming me?_ “On behalf of the students?”

“Diavolo believes that we demons should start strengthening our relationship with both the human world and the Celestial Realm. As a first step towards this goal, we’ve decided to institute an exchange program. We’ve sent two of our students to the human world and two to the Celestial Realm. And we’re welcoming four students to our school: two from your world and two from the Celestial Realm.”

_...this better not be going where I think it is..._

“So, I take it you’ve put two and two together at this point, right? **You’ve** been chosen from among the people of the human world to participate in this exchange program of ours. **You are our newest exchange student.** ”

... _I’m tripping balls. Evidently. I_ **_have_ ** _to be. This is_ **_not_ ** _happening. I did not apply for this._

“Your period of stay is one year. You will have to work on the tasks that you will receive from RAD.”

_A year?! A whole 365 24-hour days, calendar year?! No. No no no no. You have got to be kidding me. I am TRIPPING. There was something in that cheap-ass airport coffee. There had to be. Like, that shit they found that was in the water in Salem during the witch trials that made everyone hallucinate all the magical crap. I’m really probably just writhing and crying on the airport floor right now._

“After one year, you will write a paper about your exchange here in the Devildom.”

For some reason, that’s the thing that snaps her out of her thoughts, struck by how...mundane the activity sounds. So she finds herself parroting him: “Write a paper...?”

“I am not telling you to write a doctoral thesis. You can take it easy.” _Okay, wow, attitude much?_ “Don’t look at me so incredulously. It’s not like I will abandon you all by yourself in the Devildom. You need someone to look after you, and I think that someone should be my brother Mammon. He’s the Avatar of Greed and...how should I put it...? Oh well, you’ll understand soon enough.”

 _...I’m getting a student-government assigned babysitter? And judging by the look on his face, this isn’t going to go over smoothly..._ Lucifer reaches into his pocket and holds out what looks like a smartphone. “Here, take this device. It’s called a D.D.D. It’s a lot like the cell phones of your world. This will be yours to use as long as you’re here. Now, try calling Mammon with it.”

 _This is the most ridiculously realistic drug hallucination I’ve ever had,_ she muses as she numbly takes the phone from Lucifer’s hand and clicking the button labeled **PHONE** , finding the contact labeled “ _Mammon”. Might as well go with it. They’re always more fun when you just go with it._

After a few moments, the sound of another voice on the other end. “Yooooo.”

 _Um._ “Ah...yooooo.” _It’s good to try to match energy, right?_

“Are ya foolin’ around? Who the hell are ya?”

“I’m a human.” Strangely, saying that out loud felt somewhat...dehumanizing.

“Whaaa? A human? Geez, I was gettin’ all chilly thinkin’ it was Lucifer again. Ya should’ve told me right away. So, what business does a human got with THE Mammon?”

 _...he just called himself THE Mammon in complete seriousness?_ “You’ve been put in charge of me from now on.” She doesn’t like the way the words sound— _in charge of me. Bullshit. No one rules me._

“No way! There’s nothin’ in it for me. Whaddya even mean by ‘be in charge of you’?” _Did...did they really not tell him?_ “AAH! I get it now, you’re the other human—the new exchange student!” _Talk about a delayed reaction._ “G’luck with that, and see ya.” _Nevermind, then, they really didn’t._

“Lucifer called for you.” _That should do something, right?_

“Pfft, whatever. Ya think THE Mammon would listen to ya just ‘cause you’re tryin’ to scare me with that name?” _Bruh._ Salomé turns to Lucifer with pursed lips and eyebrows raised, and the demon sighs, motioning for her to move the phone closer to him so he can speak. “You’ve got 10 seconds...9...8...”

An affirmation is screeched out from the other end, and Mammon hangs up. The silence hangs for a moment before Lucifer breaks it with a “Sounds like you had a nice chat.” She raises her eyebrows once more and grimaces slightly. _Of_ **_course_ ** _I’m getting dumped with a slacker. At least I can use_ **_her_ ** _...I don’t want to imagine what it would be like if I couldn’t._

“Well, if you were suddenly brought to a strange place and then get told that an unfamiliar face will now take care of you, you’d certainly feel anxious,” Lord Diavolo pipes up, and she silently thanks him for justifying her. “However, Mammon isn’t the only one to help you out.” 

Lucifer then introduces his brothers to her: Asmodeus (who, after telling her to look in his eyes—very pretty ones, she’ll readily admit—seems quite miffed that she doesn’t immediately begin fawning over him), Satan (who bears an almost disturbing resemblance to a certain missing lightning-struck ex, though he at least appears outwardly more composed than she ever did), and Beelzebub (whose stomach growls so loudly that she almost summons the vines again out of sheer defensive instinct). Salomé smiles and nods at everyone on autopilot in a way that feels oddly reminiscent of working retail. _Except this time the customers can actually bite your head off if they feel like it._

“—to keep you safe, you are to stay with them at the House of Lamentation.” _Okay, now that’s just ominous._ “To keep me safe?” she questions. It does make some sense that she’d be in some sort of danger, though it further solidifies her thought that they really can’t see her _friend_ —or aren’t even aware that she has her.

“Most agree with Diavolo, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t vulgar demons out there who wouldn’t harm you. If anything were to happen to you, it would be our responsibility, and I won’t betray Diavolo’s expectations. So, I will do everything in my power to make sure you survive your stay down here in the Devildom,” Lucifer supplies, to which she smiles and nods yet again. They start talking about her new phone, mentioning how all their contacts are implemented—and then she hears someone _fucking_ _booking it_ from down the hall. _Oh, must be—_

The doors slam open, and in storms a tanned, white-haired demon in an incredibly disheveled uniform... _aaaaaaand he’s already screaming at me._ She grimaces again. _Great. Looking forward to this!_

Lucifer’s fist makes contact with Mammon’s stomach, and the other demon yells out in indignation. “Salomé, Mammon here is the Avatar of Greed. He governs and oversees all forms of it. Whenever he takes a liking to somebody, they suddenly find themselves awash in money. But from what I hear, if he decides to break it off with someone, that wealth evaporates. They’re left without a Grimm to their name,” Satan says. _Grimm must be the currency down here._ “And he’s also a masochist. That part’s important,” Asmodeus throws in, to which Salomé raises her eyebrows and clicks her tongue against her teeth. _No. No, I really did not need to know that. This does not seem like a situation where I would need to know that._

“Indeed. And it just so happens I have a job for my masochist of a brother,” Lucifer continues, crossing his arms over his chest. “Y’all, stop telling lies! I ain’t asked for that punch, and I AIN’T a masochist!” _I see I’m in for a ride._ “Mammon, **you** are going to be in charge of seeing to this human’s needs during the whole exchange. I expect your full cooperation.”

And as to be expected, the white-haired demon starts whining about it. But at this point Salomé’s tunes out him trying to pawn her off on his siblings and focuses on him. There’s something vaguely familiar about him, like seeing the same person you see on the bus every Monday at the airport on a weekend. _Oh, wait, Avatar of Greed...likely he’s visited Atlantic City a few times. He’s probably stopped by my work, maybe I dealt for him once or twice. Yeah, that’s probably it. Though, considering how damn_ **_loud_ ** _he is, I think I’d remember a story attached to him..._

“All right, **human,** listen up,” Mammon says, snapping her out of her thoughts. _Again with the weirdly dehumanizing crap._ “As much as I don’t want to look after you, I’ve got no choice. It’s a huge pain in the ass, and I’m too important for this kind of thing, but **Lucifer** told me to do it, so I will. But in return, you better make sure you don’t cause me any trouble, got it?!”

In response, she raises her hands up in mock surrender, her best, most glassy-eyed customer service smile already plastered on her face. “Okay, okay, no trouble on this end,” she replies, which appears to placate him. “Good, that’s what I want to hear. As long as you do what I say, we won’t have any problems. Just be sure you don’t forget which one of us is the boss here.” It takes all of Salomé’s patience to not call out her ability again out of sheer spite ( _Come on. You can do this. You worked at Walmart for half a year when you were seventeen and by some sweet miracle never used it on the customers while working there. This may be Hell, but it can’t be worse than a California Walmart_.).

“We have decided who will take care of you, so on to the next subject: your tasks.” _Again with the sounding ominous. Am I going to be torturing sinners for a grade or something? Ew, what if they bring out my mother?_ “What do they comprise of?”

“Good question. Your task is to polish up your soul nicely and to acquire the power to resist demons.” Now _that_ brings all of her thoughts to a screeching halt, and Lucifer seems to have picked up on it. “Demons like humans with nice souls.” _So they can see_ **_her_** _?! Then why didn’t they say anything?_ “Let me put it another way: nice souls look like shiny jewels. Do you understand now?”

This time, four ghostly vines spring from her body—one from the back of each wrist and one from each shoulder, all four about a meter long each. “So, demons can see souls?” The two vines from her wrists move towards Lucifer’s face and begin to wave in front of him; while the two from her shoulders reach out for Mammon, curling around his head (and Salomé practically feels herself get slapped in the face with a wave of pure irritation from his end). Nobody reacts to them at all. Not even a flinch, which makes Lucifer’s response all the more confounding.

“Yes.”

On her silent command, the vines dissipate, but she’s left with more questions than answers as Lucifer goes on about the struggle to keep one’s soul. _So if they can see souls, why did no one react to the vines? Or do they see them, but chose not to say anything because they don’t know I’m controlling them? Or was what I’ve been told wrong, and_ **_she_ ** _isn’t my exactly my soul, but something else? Damn, dream logic is insane._

“—you could say it’s an experiment to find out who will win.”

“What happens if I win?”

“Let’s see...I will prepare some rewards to make sure you give it your all. There, there, don’t give me that look. Don’t take it so seriously.” _My soul is supposedly hanging in the balance and you say ‘don’t take it seriously’?!_ “You won’t have to do these tasks on your own. After all, you don’t have any magic in you unlike the other exchange student from the human world...” _My subconscious is truly acting up today, huh? Now we’ve invented wizards and shit. I have to remember this when I wake up, tell my dad to write this down as his next book._ Lucifer’s going on about how he and his brothers will lend her their strength, and then he’s walking her through her first task on her new phone. She’s following on autopilot, absorbing and filing away whatever he says, though in reality her mind is a thousand miles away.

_Okay, so, on the off-chance that this is actually, seriously happening...what the fuck. I need to get out of here. There has to be a way out, right? My human world phone and iPad probably won’t work down here, so it’s not like I can even tell everyone I’m alright. Papa and Oz especially. Yeesh, I wonder if the security cameras caught my disappearance. What did it even look like? Did I clip through the floor like a shitty video game? Did a literal hole open beneath my feet and swallow me whole? I wonder if anyone saw. Wonder if it’ll make the news. And if it does, when I get home—either by sitting out a year or escaping, by some miracle—how am I going to explain where I’ve been? Of course, to my friends who are like me, I could make something up about being held in some sort of pocket dimension, like what Oz has. But to Papa and everyone else..._

“—it’s as easy as pie, don’t you think?” Lucifer finishes, and Salomé has to agree, even as she’s dragged out of her thoughts. Unconsciously, she holds her notes—Oz’s notes about what he had found about Beatrice and the cargo before she was to join him in England today—closer to herself as Mammon yells something about not being responsible for her being eaten and Beelzebub once again complains of his hunger. _I shouldn’t let them know what’s on these papers. Or to see the cargo. Especially Mammon—something tells me to keep it far, far away from him._

“...I..okay,” she takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Ah, Oz is gonna kill me for this...assuming I’m not going to wake up on the floor of the airport or in a hospital bed in the next few hours...sure, I’m down. Count me in.” _They’re always more fun when you just go with it._

“I should make one thing clear right now,” Lord Diavolo says, causing her to turn to him, “This is not the sort of dream you wake up from. Salomé, from now on you will be living in the House of Lamentation. You’ll be staying there with Lucifer and his six younger brothers.” The smile drops, and Salomé feels the ghostly vines spring up again from her hand, though the part of her mind where her little friend resides tugs at her consciousness, screaming that she does _not_ want to read his emotions right now. “Humans, angels, demons. I imagine a universe where each accepts the other. Where we are brought together as friends.” _But why?_ Then the smile returns, and Salomé allows the vines to retract. “This is my dream, and I’m asking you to be the foundation for it.” 

_I mean, you really didn’t ask at all. You kidnapped me from the airport. I owe Oz like six hundred dollars for missing my flight and won’t be able to pay him back for a year. That’s fistfight money right there. Are you going to reimburse him for me? And Beatrice...Bice will still be out there, dead or alive and I won’t know the answer for a year. Assuming there’s really no way out of this._ She shakes those thoughts when she feels a lump begin to rise in her throat. _I really don’t need to start crying in front of a bunch of demons I just met. Even if this is really just some hallucination. I won’t be humiliated in my own dreams._

“One year, that’s all I ask of you. Good luck, Salomé.”

She raises her chin slightly, allowing half a smile to appear on her face. Regardless of whether or not she makes an early escape, regardless of the genuine warmth she read from him when they shook hands, regardless if she's just made him and all of this up in her head or not, Salomé really doesn’t want to push her luck with the literal ruler of Hell. “Then, I’ll make sure not to disappoint.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stand Name: 「???」  
> Music Reference: ???  
> Stand Master: Salomé Desjardins  
> Namesake: Salomé (U2 song), Desjardins (Ingrid St-Pierre song)
> 
> Destructive Power: B  
> Speed: B  
> Range: B  
> Durability: A  
> Precision: C  
> Developmental Potential: A
> 
> Appearance: [REDACTED]. 「???」can also be partially manifested in the form of vines with white poppies and nightshade flowers growing on them.
> 
> Stand Ability:
> 
> 1\. Empathy: 「???」 can unravel part of itself to wrap its vines around a person, allowing Salomé to ascertain their current emotions, with special focus on how calm they are.  
> 2\. [REDACTED].  
> 3\. [REDACTED].
> 
> Weaknesses: 
> 
> 1\. Depending on which part of either「???」or Salomé's body the vines came from, should they be broken, Salomé will take damage in the same area.  
> 2\. [REDACTED].  
> 3\. [REDACTED].


	2. Black Mambo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leviathan has a plan. Salomé has a conversation. Solomon has a hunch. Beelzebub has a secret. Simeon has an encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from the glass animals song of the same name

Mammon never stops bitching. _Never. Stops. Bitching._ On the way out of the council room, on the way through the Devildom—which is a lot more normal-looking than she had been anticipating—all the way to the so-called House of Lamentation: the entire time. Non-stop irritation and she doesn’t even have to read his emotions to tell. She’s quickly warming up to the idea of just calling out the vines to gag him then and there when they come to a stop in front of what looks reminiscent of a Victorian-era English mansion. “Just so we’re clear!” Mammon exclaims suddenly, and she looks at him with the most dead, five-minutes-till-the-end-of-my-shift-please-let-me-go-home eyes she can muster. “It’s not like I can’t say no to Lucifer, okay?! I only agreed to babysit you because, um...well, you know, because...uh...” _Spare me, please._ “Anyway, **it doesn’t matter!** Just don’t go thinking that I’m scared of Lucifer or anything! Because I’m **not!”**

_Okay, someone has_ ** _issues_** , is what Salomé _would_ say if she isn’t out of her element in such a drastic manner. So instead she goes with what will probably placate him, deciding that now isn’t exactly the best time to piss off her babysitter: “I know that.” And evidently, it works, because he’s momentarily stunned into sweet, sweet silence before responding “...Oh. Okay then, as long as we’ve got that straight...ugh, whatever. Let’s move on.”

He unlocks the door and leads her inside, beginning with an explanation on the house (which is very impressive-looking), and she follows silently, eyes flickering around. _They say you can never dream up a place you haven’t been or seen...and I think I’d remember if I’d ever seen a home like this._

“Now, I’m gonna give you a piece of advice, so listen up. If you wanna survive a day here in the Devildom, you’d better listen REAL close to what I’m about to say. If it ever looks like a demon is about to attack you...run away. Either that, or die.”

The vines emerge from her skin once more out of sheer agitation— _right, fuck it, I’m gonna gag him._ “You...think I’m really dumb, don’t you?” 

Before Mammon has the chance to respond, a new voice interrupts. “How about this? I vote for YOU to die, Mammon.” Turning to the source, Salomé finds herself face-to-face with a new demon: pale and purple-haired, evidently mad as hell. _Hi, sunrise eyes._

Mammon practically _jumps_. “Uh, l-listen up, human! This here is Leviathan, the Avatar of Envy. He’s the third oldest of us brothers. Since his name’s sorta hard to say, you can just call him Levi! Okay then, let’s move on.”

“Leviathan, Léviathan, Leviatán...Leviatano,” she whisper-chants somewhat boredly, one iteration in each language she has a solid grip on. The bitchy _it’s really not that hard_ is (hopefully) implicit.

Leviathan doesn’t notice, instead focusing on laying into his brother. “Mammon, give me my money. Then go crawl in a hole and die.” _Damn, this must happen a lot in this house._ Unconsciously, she grips her bag even tighter. _I think I’ll need to keep the cargo on me 24/7. Can’t leave it out of my sight with him around._

The two go back and forth for a while, apparently because _Mammon has owed this debt for over two centuries and holy fuck that’s like three human lifetimes._ There’s a momentary lull in the argument and she leans against the wall with her arms crossed and grins lightly at her supposed guardian. “So is it true? Are you actually a lowlife, Mammon?”

Mammon clearly takes offense to this and looks at her like a wounded dog. “Hey! Don’t call me a lowlife!” _Damn. This must happen often enough to the point where he can’t differentiate an actual insult from someone questioning one._ The look on his face changes and Salomé feels exasperated dread begin to pool at the bottom of her stomach. _For fuck’s sake, don’t you dare—_

“Listen, human. You remember my advice from before about what to do when demons attack?” _Wow, he’s really going to do it. The audacity._ “Well, you're about to—“

“—please spare us the monologue and just get on with it,” she cuts him off, and he thankfully takes it to heart, practically flying down the hall and abandoning her to his brother. She’s briefly tempted to send the vines out to trip him up, but decides that it would be unwise to risk letting anyone get an inkling of knowledge about her little gift so early in her stay. Leviathan, to her eternal surprise, looks shocked. _Why the fuck are you surprised? You live with him, have presumably done so for millennia, and I’ve known him for a grand total of thirty minutes, and yet I knew he was going to do that._ “Wh...dammit, Mammon! That ass...!”

She shrugs. “I’m gonna be honest, I saw that coming.”

For the first time, Leviathan turns those sunrise eyes fully on her. “So you _do_ realize what just happened. Mammon used you as a distraction to get away from me…or maybe I should say he used you as a **sacrifice.** ” The words are ominous ( _he can’t be dumb enough to attack someone who’s technically under royal protection_ ), but she doesn’t even blink as she instead directs her idle vines to temporarily wrap loosely around the demon’s left hand, and gets exactly the result she was expecting.

 _No real malice for me. You aren’t gonna do_ **_shit._ **

_(Not right now, at least.)_

“I’ll admit that Mammon is one of the scummiest scumbags you’ll ever meet…a total lowlife. But still, that was pretty dumb of you letting him use you like that.”

“What did you want me to do? _Chase_ him?” 

“This is EXACTLY why humans are—” he pauses, and Salomé raises an eyebrow as the wheels are clearly turning in his head and a devious smile appears on his face. “...wait a second. **Humans** ...yes, that's it...suddenly, I've got an idea.” _Oh?_ “Listen, are you free right now? Of course you are. You’ve gotta be, right?”

 _Does it look like I was doing anything else?_ Despite the situation, she finds herself thoroughly amused and curious, allowing a small smile to appear on her face. _I mean, even if I die, at least it won’t be boring._ “Well, I am now...”

“ **Come with me,** then,” he says, turning around and striding up the stairs, and she follows. Her new D.D.D. begins to buzz in her pocket, and as she fishes it out, she notices that they’re messages from Mammon, consisting of a bullshit excuse, telling her not to snitch to Lucifer, and a glowering emoticon. She rolls her eyes and sends the glowering emoticon right back. _Is this divine punishment for the Casablanca incident? Or for the_ ** _other_ **_thing?_

It’s not too long until they arrive at Leviathan’s door, but instead of opening it right away, the demon scans the hallways twice before hurriedly opening the door and practically slamming it closed once she enters... _as if he’s afraid of something._ However, the thought is pushed to the back of her mind once she takes in the room. _Holy_ **_shit._ ** It’s gorgeous. The back wall is a huge fish tank, the floor is made up of an intricate tile pattern, there are blue and black speakers littered around, there are even floating **_jellyfish lamps_** above... _Does he sleep in_ ** _that?_ ** _I mean, I’ve slept in a few bathtubs in my time, but not because I necessarily_ ** _wanted_ **_to..._ She shakes herself out of her reverie, however, when she notices Leviathan looking at the door uncomfortably.

“Um...is something wrong?”

“What’s that now? You want to know why I looked around to see if anyone was watching before I closed the door?” She nods warily. “Why do you THINK I did it? Isn't it obvious?! Imagine what would happen if someone saw me inviting **you** into my room! A **human** who doesn't even look like an **otaku,** but a **normie!** You know what people would say, right?” **_WHAT._ **

She raises her hands cautiously, deciding not to mention the fact that she’s 90% sure the word ‘otaku’ is considered an insult in Japan. “I, um...sorry I didn’t wear my _Marmalade Boy_ shirt today...?” 

Leviathan is saying something else, but she tunes him out temporarily to continue scanning the room ( _Hm. For an otaku, I’d expect the room to stink a lot more, but all I’m smelling is the ocean..._ ). Something catches her eye: a set of huge books on his shelves. In the blue lighting, she makes out the title of one of them. _The Tale of the Seven Lords: The Lord of Shadow Awakens._ “Wow, that takes me back...”

“What is it, human? What’re you looking at?” the demon asks, following her gaze, a huge grin spreading across his face once he realizes. “Wait, that looks like... _The Tale of the Seven Lords._ Are you a fan of that too?”

She flashes a semi-apologetic smile. “Oh, yeah, I like the series a lot. It’s been a few years since I’ve read them, though...life got in the way, you feel me?” It had started when, during the hasty flight with her father from the family house in Montréal, she’d accidentally left her volumes behind. Then there was adjusting to living in Ridgecrest and making new friends and finding new interests, and even when she’d go back to visit Montréal she’d be spending her time out of the house, and then she’d discovered **_raves_ ** _...I’d better not tell him any of that. Too ‘normie’._

“Hmph, is that so?” _Ew, am I going to get fake geek girl questioned?_ “Okay then, can you tell me what the first lord is known as in the story?”

 _Good God man, I said it was a few_ **years** , not **_decades._ ** _My memory isn’t_ ** _that_ **_bad._ A huff of laughter. “Oh, come on— _the Lord of Corruption._ ”

His face lights up like a Christmas tree, and before Salomé can get another word in, he launches into an incredibly wordy rant about how much he adores the series and its characters which eventually devolves into him complaining about how much he’d like to visit Japan and how apparently demons introduced the concept of pleasure to humans (another **_what_** moment right there) so it wasn’t fair that the human world had so many amenities that would suit an otaku like him and the Devildom didn’t. _It’s remarkably easy to forget that I’m talking to a creature that’s several thousands of years old._ When he finally pauses to take a breath after detailing how he wants to LARP as Henry in Tokyo (and then to actually _be_ Henry), she lets out a low whistle. “Almost thought you were going to go blue in the face for a second there,” she chuckles. “Nah, but seriously. I think you should go for it. Fuck what other people think.”

He nods vigorously in agreement. “Yeah, screw ‘em!” Then, like a deflating balloon, the energy he had just visibly drains out of him. “...alright, enough. Anyway, I didn’t bring you here to talk about TSL. I don’t think there’s any harm in just saying what you already know is true: Mammon is a complete and utter scumbag. It’s very important that you understand this. So I’ll say it one more time. Mammon is a **hopeless, worthless scumbag.** ”

“Crystal clear. A hopeless, worthless scumbag,” she parrots, and he nods once more before sighing. “I lent that scumbag money, and now I want him to pay me back. But being the scumbag that he is, he won’t do it. I wish I could force him to, but despite what a rotten waste of space he is, Mammon’s still the second oldest. As the third oldest, no matter how hard I try, I don’t stand a chance against him.”

Salomé raises an eyebrow, leaning back against the door with her arms crossed. “So why exactly _do_ you have such a problem with him? Sounds like there's something more here besides the money.”

“You say you want to know how Mammon and I first became enemies? Well, it’s a long story, but sure. I’ll tell you, human...” _Oh, sweet fuck he’s gonna—_ and Leviathan launches right into another rant, a tale about Mammon badly treating a coveted convenience store lottery prize figurine and then later knocking Leviathan out while completely naked. _Noted: never go into my babysitter’s room at night._ “But if, say, a **human** made a **pact** with Mammon, and bound him to their service…then he’d have to do whatever that human told him to. Which means that if you make a pact with Mammon and then ordered him to give me back my money…”

_...this better not be going where I think it is...oh, of course, it fucking is._

“...he wouldn’t have any choice but to do it.”

“Hold up, hold up,” Salomé interjects, raising both hands slightly yet again. _If this is anything like Faust..._ “There’s a soul trade involved in a pact, isn’t there? I’m not exactly down with that.” _If_ ** _she_** _is my soul, as I’ve been told, would that mean I’d lose her?_

“That isn’t always necessary. It depends on what’s in the pact. But, well, you need to give SOMETHING to the demon to make it worth the exchange, so it’s pretty much inevitable. If you don’t want to give up your soul, then I’ll tell you how you can negotiate with Mammon. Also, I’m sure it would be useful having him as your servant. I mean, despite how awful he is, he’s still a powerful demon. But I bet you feel worried, being dragged down here to the Devildom and all. So, I don’t think it would end up being a bad deal for you, either. Don’t you agree?” There’s a flicker of _something_ in those sunrise eyes, and she’s reminded once more that Leviathan is something **_very ancient._ **

She raises a hand to her chin thoughtfully. “Mmmm...I’m open to it. I take it you already have a plan in mind...?”

“I take it this means you think it could work, right?” He receives a half-smile in return. “ **Excellent.** You may be a human, but still...you show some promise! Regardless, if I’m being honest, I don’t really care what **you** think. What’s important is that **I** have a plan, and I’m going to explain it to you now. So, shut up and listen.” _Hot and cold much?_ “If you just walk up to Mammon and ask him to make a pact with you, he'll never agree...no, you need some leverage...a bargaining chip. You're going to offer him something in return...something he wants so badly that he'd do ANYTHING to get it.”

* * *

When she wakes up, she expects to be on the airport floor or a hospital bed, just as she said back in the council chamber. But no, she’s staring up at the ceiling of her room in the House of Lamentation—a room which she has to admit is beautiful. She’s especially a fan of the huge tree that’s somehow still green and leafy, a phenomenon she chalks up to some kind of weird magic. She turns on the D.D.D.—a whole 2 hours before she was told to get up for class. _Shit._ Well...she has a bit of time to mull over the situation, and get a second (sort of?) opinion. So Salomé closes her eyes once more and silently calls on her _friend,_ calling **her** out by name _._

When she opens her eyes an instant later, she’s no longer alone. A white and purple figure floats about a foot over where she’s lying in bed. She’s been told a few times that the ear-to-ear purple painted harlequin smile it perpetually wears is creepy, but Salomé thinks it gorgeous, like the faces of Venetian Carnevale masks. And it’s always been a comfort, a huge smile to remind her that she is never truly alone. _Even if that other someone is technically an extension of myself._

And thus, she asks of her friend:

« Quand penses-tu qu’on se réveillera? »

 _« Nous sommes éveillés._ _»_

« Merde. »

« _Nous avons vu des choses plus étranges._ _»_

« Non. C’est le plus étrange. Ça ne peut pas être réel. »

« _Tu peux me voir et tu peux m’utiliser. Pour l’instant, c’est notre réalité. »_

« Baise-moi. Chie une brique et baise-moi avec. »

_« Nous endurerons. Ils ne peuvent pas me voir. C’est notre avantage. »_

« Tu crois qu’on va survivre? Vraiment? »

 _« Oui. Et si nous avons besoin de nous échapper, nous le ferons. Nous l’avons toujours fait._ _»_

* * *

Her hair is charcoal gray, pulled into a high ponytail. Solomon notes that it looks as though she’s walking with a gun to her back, and she wouldn’t be entirely wrong. Just now, two demons are several feet behind her and in front of him, already audibly plotting on eating her. He makes no move to stop them, instead electing to sit back and see what she’ll do: run, like she’s probably been advised to, or confront them, which while extremely foolish, would be _infinitely_ more entertaining.

But she just...keeps walking at the same pace. _Is she suicidal or merely stupid?_ The thought vanishes, however, when the two demons suddenly trip over nothing and fall flat on their faces, as if something had wrapped a rope around their ankles from behind and pulled, _hard,_ judging by how loud the sound of their heads hitting the floor is _._ There’s a curse made to do that, of course: but he’s been told that this young woman has no magic, and he doesn’t _feel_ any lingering magical energy in the air. He watches as she turns slightly to see what’s happened, her brow furrowing, before picking up the pace.

 _Now,_ **_this_** _is interesting._

In the commotion surrounding the two fallen demons (one of which has a bloody nose, but otherwise looking physically unharmed), Solomon watches as her D.D.D. slips from her hand while she continues walking. _An opening._ He slides past the demons and picks up the D.D.D., calling out to her with a “Hey, you there.”

She turns to face him, and instead of looking frightened or tormented (like _most_ non-magical humans would), her expression is... _blank._ Like she’s at a job she’s been working at for months that she hates. She’s a few inches shorter than him, early twenties, with a slightly suntanned face and neck covered in freckles, green eyes (that are glazed over to the point where Solomon is reminded of a long-dead fish), and wearing a gold chain around her neck with a pendant of some sort that’s carefully tucked into her buttoned-up blazer, hidden from view. “Me?” she replies as if she didn’t just do _something_ to take out two demons half a minute ago with no magic.

 _Oh, you’re_ **_good._ **

“That’s right, I’m talking to you, the human with that blank, clueless look on your face. Making yourself look like easy pickings.” He decides that he’s really _not_ in the mood to get a bloody nose today, and thus bites back on anything more scathing. She raises an eyebrow, but nothing grabs at his ankles, so he figures it’s alright to continue. “Your name is Salome, isn’t it?” He pronounces her name the way it’s **meant** to be pronounced—it’s from _his_ language, after all. When she nods, he continues. “This D.D.D. here belongs to you, right? I saw you drop it just now. Here, take it,” Solomon holds it out to her, and for a fraction of a second, it looks like the thing hanging from the chain that’s hidden under her blazer **moves** when she takes it from him with an “Oh, damn—thanks.” Yet again, there’s no magical energy to be sensed. _She did shift forward to get her D.D.D., so likely it was just_ ** _gravity._ **

“Haha, no need to be nervous. There’s no need to be suspicious of me. My name’s Solomon. I’m an exchange student from the human world, just like you. Nice to meet you, Salome,” he says, holding out his hand for her to shake, which she accepts (her hand has freckles too). He could swear he feels something lightly wrap around his wrist, brushing against the small, invisible hairs on his arm—but there’s nothing there, and once again, no magical energy. When they let go of each other, the feeling vanishes, and suddenly she smiles brightly, genuine light entering her eyes. It looks much better on her than the previous dead fish gaze. “It’s nice to finally meet you too, Solomon. I have to say, ah, you almost had me fooled for a moment there.” Her grin turns teasing, and she leans against the wall casually. “Are you _sure_ you’re human?”

It’s clear that she doesn’t mean anything by it, but if she wants to play that game, Solomon isn’t opposed to indulging her. “Haha, good question. Honestly, there are times when even I’m not so sure. Long ago, I obtained a ring of wisdom—a gift from a certain someone in a VERY high position. And, drunk on its power, I used it to form pacts with 72 different demons...becoming a **wicked sorcerer** ...” He studies her expression. She’s still smiling, both eyebrows raised, but there’s something _off_ : it almost feels as if she’s staring at him with two pairs of eyes, and the pair he can’t see isn’t exactly amused. “...That is, if you believe all the stories people tell about me. Regardless, I’m fairly sure that I am indeed still human, though it may not seem like it.”

She lets out a sharp laugh and swats at him playfully. “Careful now, you’ll cut yourself on all that edge. I was just playing, I felt your humanity, no doubt there.” _Felt...?_ There’s another commotion down the hall, and Solomon turns to see Lucifer approaching them (flanked by succubi trying to get his attention), doubtless to gather Salome. “Uh-oh. I’d better get going. See you around, Salome. Take care of yourself.” 

She waves at him as he leaves her, and he makes it to the corner of the hall before looking back. As suspected, Lucifer is speaking to her, and he can just _guess_ what he’s saying: _Solomon can’t be trusted, stay away from him, he may be a mere human, but he wields powerful magic, the type of man who will try to subjugate even a powerful, greater demon if he gets the chance—_ the standard opinion of him. But Salome already likes him at least a bit, that much is obvious. He’s a little put off that Lucifer’s sudden appearance didn’t allow him to at least try to begin figuring out what exactly she had done to her two would-be attackers.

But it’s alright. He has a whole year to keep an eye on her. _More than enough time._

* * *

For the first day at demonic university, things went surprisingly well, if one doesn’t count that little _hiccup_ in the morning. Salomé’s never been more grateful for her **_friend_** in her life. However...

She had made **_her_** disappear once attention was off her and on the two demons, only calling out the vines when Solomon had offered to shake hands, and making them dissipate when they let go of each other, just like yesterday. What she did **_not_** do was call her out fully when Solomon had been talking to her about being an evil sorcerer—and yet her friend had literally come out by herself. It’s happened a few times before, of course, when she’s been in danger, but the look in her friend’s eyes wasn’t angry or cocky like it had been all those times—instead, Salomé sensed a deep confusion as she stared at Solomon’s face with an intensity she had never displayed before. Later, when she’d asked, all her friend said was an almost-sad sounding _« Je crois que je le connais._ _»_ And it wasn’t as though she had felt any malice when she’d wrapped his wrist in the vines, either, so it wasn’t like he was going to cause her harm...

Not to mention she could’ve sworn she felt the _cargo_ she now wears around her neck move when Solomon held out her D.D.D. to her. _It fucking_ **_moved,_ ** _all by itself_ ** _,_ ** she’s sure of it. _And if Oz’s notes are correct, and if Lucifer’s right that I shouldn’t trust him...not a good look. But then again, it’s natural that a demon would be wary of a human man with powerful magic and almost 100 pacts..._

Speaking of the D.D.D., it buzzes: a message from Leviathan, evidently having figured out Lucifer’s (surprisingly easy) hint, telling her to come to the kitchen. And so she makes her way to the kitchen, which thankfully enough, is adjacent to her botanical-styled room.

The kitchen is one of the nicest ones she’s ever seen, though she’s surprised at how weirdly rustic it looks compared to the rest of the house. She scans the large room for Leviathan, but he’s nowhere to be seen... _oh, someone’s eating out of the fridge...Jesus, he’s really going to town..._

“Ah, perfect timing,” a voice calls out from behind the fridge door, and it closes to reveal Beelzebub, with crumbs on his face. _Er...does he do this every night?_ “Listen, do you have any food on you? Because there’s not nearly enough in the fridge...I’m hungry.” _Did he clear out the whole fridge?!_

“Ah...no. Sorry,” she says, spreading her hands. He gives her a sad look as he stands up, and Salomé’s vaguely reminded of a puppy. _A very tall orange puppy. Hi, dusk eyes._ “Anyway, what’re you doing in the kitchen so late?”

“I wanted a glass of water, that’s all,” she says smoothly, and he nods. “Good. I can’t have another person in here looking for food. There’d be less for me.” She moves to get a glass while Beelzebub goes to check some of the other cabinets to try to scavenge more.

After taking a sip, something dawns on her. _Hey yeah, it is really late into my first full day here, and yet..._ “Hey, I know this is a weird question, but, er...” For some reason, she’s reminded of Lucifer’s words from the council room: _Most agree with Diavolo, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t vulgar demons out there who wouldn’t harm you._ “Lord Diavolo said that there are 7 brothers living here in total, so, just curious...”

Beelzebub catches her drift, but his face hardens. “...Now listen, don’t you **ever** mention him in front of Lucifer. Just so we’re clear, I’m not going to tell you anything, either. Lucifer would yell at me if I did.” She straightens, eyes wide. _Oh, wow, so it's like **that.** _His face turns sad. “And don’t bother asking any of my brothers, either. No one talks about **him...** even though he’s our brother...we have to treat him like he doesn’t exist...it’s not right. But since no one can defy Lucifer...”

She nods. “Okay. I’m sorry, I get it. I won’t ask again.” He nods back at her, face hardening again. “I’m leaving. I’ve already eaten everything there was in the refrigerator now anyway.” _HE REALLY CLEARED OUT THE FRIDGE?!_ Then, a smile. “I’m pretty sure Lucifer is hiding a poisoned apple in the desk in the study.” 

“Goodnight,” Salomé calls out after him, taking another sip from her glass as he vanishes to find the coveted treat. _What could a demon have done that would make his own family turn their backs on him like this?...you know what, I don’t want to know. Now, where the fuck is Leviathan? Time to get this show on the road!_

* * *

The pact mark has manifested on the back of her right hand. Simeon notices how she’s constantly touching it with fascinated eyes, not really paying attention to Lucifer, Barbatos, and Lord Diavolo’s conversation. He pities her immensely: dropped in the middle of the Devildom without warning against her will with no magic, and having to make a pact with the demon assigned to keep watch over her in order to keep him in line, all within two days. 

When he and Luke join in the conversation, her eyes go wide and she remains silent, but it’s more obvious that she’s actually focusing now. She smiles brightly when Lord Diavolo introduces them, says “Glad to meet you,” and then **_spectral_** **_flowered vines_** burst out of her left hand. None of the demons seem to notice it, but even Luke has been stunned into silence by the sight. It takes a moment for Simeon to decide how to act, tapping his left hand with his right index finger and slightly nodding at her. 

The poor human looks like she’s about to faint when he does that, and the vines disappear, only for a ghostly figure to materialize floating behind and above her. It looks to be a bit taller than her, a white humanoid body with purple eyes (with a noticeable lack of irises or pupils), a very wide purple-lipped smile, and what appears to be purple veins all over, strikingly similar to a circulatory system. It has no hair but wears a veil and a long, sleeveless poofy white dress, much like a human bride. Its left side unravels into the white and purple flowered vines _(human world poppies and belladonna,_ he notes) that had appeared from its master’s hand earlier, and Simeon realizes that a) the dress, and presumably veil, is part of its body and b) said body is literally **made of** the vines and flowers.

He’s heard of mortals like her before, yet has never actually encountered any. Their gift is rare, much harder to obtain and control than any kind of traditional magic, whether Celestial or Infernal, despite how limited their individual abilities may be. The spirit raises a purple-veined finger to its smiling lips and speaks in its master’s voice, and the angel notes how both spirit and master now regard him and Luke with unabashed happiness and curiosity:

_“Shh, please! We don’t know why you’re able to see me, but she and I are very glad you can. The demons cannot. We’ll talk later.”_

This lamb, **Salomé** , is what is known as a Stand User.

Offhandedly, as Barbatos begins talking to him about something else and they start to walk off, Simeon wonders just how long it will take for the demons to pick up on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gonna try to update this story once a week (thursdays or fridays) but if i drop off suddenly it's bc of uni kicking into gear
> 
> the french dialogue between salomé and her stand translates to (if i got anything wrong please tell me so i can correct it):
> 
> "When do you think we'll wake up?"  
> "We are awake."  
> "Shit."  
> "We have seen stranger things."  
> "No, this is the strangest. It can't be real."  
> "You can see me and you can use me. Right now, this is our reality."  
> "Fuck me. Shit a brick and fuck me with it."  
> "We will endure. They can't see me. This is our advantage."  
> "Do you think we'll survive? Really?"  
> "Yes. And if we need to escape, we will. We always have."
> 
> « Je crois que je le connais. » = "I think I know him.”


	3. Laisse Tomber Les Filles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mammon has questions. Salomé has immunity. Abyzou has had too much to drink. Meridiana has a recollection. Tunrida has cold hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
>  _WLW OBEY ME FANS COME GET YOUR FOOD WE'VE BEEN STARVED FOR TOO LONG_   
>  **   
>  **minor spoilers from lesson 36 re: solomon.**
> 
> also uh the first two segments are slightly spicy so. yeah that’s why I changed the rating.  
> chapter title comes from the france gall song

Mammon's never seen what exactly is hanging off that chain that the human has perpetually around her neck, but he knows it's something extremely valuable. He can _smell_ it. Hell, the chain itself is real, pure, solid gold. 

So naturally, he’s taken it upon himself to steal it. 

The only issue is she never takes it off, and is meticulous about keeping her door locked when she’s asleep or taking a shower. At this point, it wouldn’t surprise him if she wore it during those times as well. Sure, she had tricked him into making that pact for Goldie, but that doesn’t mean she’ll automatically figure out it was him who had taken it!

So when he tries her door a little past midnight a week into her stay, and it swings open, he decides not to question his luck. Closing the door softly behind him, he surveys the room. Totally dark, the human in question lying in the middle of that pink and purple bed without the blanket covering her, one leg hanging off the side, appearing totally dead to the world. She’s wearing some sort of huge blue and white sports jersey, black shorts, black ankle socks, and... _the chain!_ Not even tucked in her shirt like she usually keeps it, just right out there in the open! _Too easy!_ He quietly makes his way over to the bed, unable to keep a grin from spreading across his face. Mammon has to lean forward across the bed to reach the chain, being careful not to rest any of his weight on the bed to risk waking her up.

And there, hanging from that long, golden chain that his fingers are just barely brushing against, wrapped in multiple layers of clear plastic bubble wrap...

_...an arrowhead?_

« Je te tiens~... »

“D’AAAAAAAH!”

Something wraps around his wrists and yanks his arms up over his head—not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to startle him, and the next thing he knows, he's on his back on her bed, arms over his head with something he can’t see wrapped around his wrists; and the human is standing above him, holding the chain in one hand and resting her right foot on his chest. 

« Bon soir, monsieur Mammon! » the human laughs—she has the audacity to _laugh_ at him, _him, the Great Mammon!_ —and leans in, resting one elbow on her bent knee. "So glad you decided to drop in! The _one_ night I leave my door unlocked and you just...take the bait so easily. Kind of sad, actually."

“WH—YOU—DAMMIT—!” He pulls on whatever’s restraining him, only for him to realize that a) it’s not going to break and b) she literally has him **tied to the footboard of her bed.**

_This is just...really, really embarrassin’._

“Relax. The more you struggle, the tighter they’ll get. I didn’t do this to hurt you. I’ve been meaning to speak to you about this—” she taps the arrow with one finger “—for a while, actually. I’ve seen how you look at it.”

“I—I wasn’t gonna steal it! I jus’ wanted to see what—”

**« Arrête de me gonfler. Je ne suis pas stupide. »**

“Wh—couldn’t ya have talked to me about it in a conversation outside or somethin’?! Like a normal person?!”

She sighs, and it strikes Mammon that she’s not really angry with him like his brothers get when he tries to take their things. It reads more as businesslike with a hint of amusement. He notes that she’s not really putting any pressure on his chest with her foot, either. “Believe me, I wish I could have. I had to catch you off your guard to make sure you’d listen.” Her face softens. “Look, I’m not mad at you for this, I promise. Stealing and reselling is a compulsory thing for you, isn’t it? You can’t help it, even if you keep getting caught. It’s part of being the Avatar of Greed. I can feel it.”

He knows she isn’t mad at him, which is surprising enough, but saying that she understands that he can’t help what he does, no matter how many times he gets caught and yelled at...and that she can _feel it,_ whatever that means...for once, he’s stunned into silence; which she takes as her cue to continue.

“Regardless of that, I can’t let you take this arrow. I was in the middle of delivering it when I was summoned here, so it’s my responsibility to keep it on me until I get home. But that’s not the only reason why. You see, **it’s dangerous.** ” Her face hardens up, her voice losing all playfulness and sympathy. " **If** ** _you_** **touch this arrowhead, you will die**. That is not an empty threat, **it is** **a fact.** **It will kill you,** and there is **nothing** that can be done to remove the effect. You will die in **less than two months,** and it will **be the most agonizingly slow two months of your life.** I am keeping it from you **for your own safety. Do I make myself clear?"**

She's _way_ too reminiscent of Lucifer right now for comfort. "Th-then, why hasn't it killed _ya,_ huh?"

A shrug. "Oh, I'm immune. Also, I have no intention of taking it out of its protective packaging."

“The hell ya mean you’re _IMMUNE_ to a curse like that?!”

“I never said it was a cursed object. The fact that it will kill anyone who **isn’t like me** is a non-magical property of the metal. Anyway—” she somehow leans in even further, long smoky hair brushing against his neck _(did she always kinda smell like human world flowers?)_ and the pact mark on her hand glows **_“—keep your hands off this arrowhead for as long as I’m staying in this house. You’re not allowed to tell anyone what just transpired in this room or about the arrow. Those are orders.”_**

He groans. “Alright, alright, fine. Ya got ya deal. No touching the arrow...so...uh...ya gonna...y’know...”

“Gonna what?”

“G-gonna..y’know...let me go...?” It was supposed to come out as an indignant yell, but Mammon finds it coming out in a soft, drowsy-sounding near whisper. _Damn, was I always this tired...?_

She tilts her head. “Really? I thought Asmodeus said you were a masochist...?” Then, a grin. “Nah, nah, I’m playing with you. You’re not gonna take the arrow, so we’re all good now.” Whatever’s holding his hands vanishes, and the human tucks the chain back into that giant shirt before removing her foot from his chest to flop down next to him face-first. He makes a move to sit up, but feels a wave of drowsiness hitting him, so he ends up just lying back down, eyes eventually drifting to the charcoal-haired human.

The slight scent of flowers is gone. If it was ever there to begin with.

“...hey...how did ya do that?”

“Do what?” she responds, voice muffled.

“Y’know, the thing. Held me down.”

“...uh, with my foot?”

“The _other_ thing. With my hands. Ya aren’t supposed to have any magic, so—”

She sits up to face him then, green eyes flashing with _something_ in the dark. **_“No questions about that and no telling anyone else about it.”_ **

_That_ order slightly wakes him up from the sudden onset of drowsiness, but it’s not like he can even question it out loud. However, despite what his brothers may think, Mammon is capable of putting two and two together (once in a blue moon). He knows what magic feels like: whatever had held his wrists together and tied him to the footboard of her bed was definitely not magic. But then what _could_ it be? It doesn't make sense. She's supposed to be useless, powerless, weak.

“Hey. Hey, Mammon. I got something else I’ve been meaning to ask, actually.”

“Huh?...Okay?”

“You ever been to Atlantic City? Play blackjack at the Borgata?”

 _The Borgata..._ “Oh, yeah. Tons of times. Hey, remember those witches I told ya about?”

“Hm? The ones who called and told you to pull up to the club the other day while we were at RAD?”

“Gah, don’t remind me...but yeah. They made me go with them to the Borgata like a month ago, and can ya believe it? They practically drained me dry at the blackjack table!”

“...by any chance...does one of them have purple hair? Like the pillow on the floor.”

He winces in affirmation despite himself, and the human suddenly shoots up, face contorted with anger. « CES GARCES! » she hisses, and in spite of his inexplicable exhaustion, Mammon reels back. She notices his reaction, and calms down. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just...when you were there, did you get a free drink?” 

“Uh...oh, yeah! It was blue, with lots of bubbles. Waiter didn’t say who got it for me, though.”

“It was bubbly because they put Sprite in it. The Blue Crush—it’s blueberry vodka, pomegranate liqueur, and Sprite.”

“How would ya know—”

“Mammon. I work at the Borgata. I worked the last night you were there. I’m a blackjack dealer.” She’s grinning now, hands folded underneath her chin. “Or, I guess it would be more appropriate to say _worked,_ because I took off two weeks to go to London before ending up down here, and I know I’m not gonna still have that job when I get home—”

“Wait, wait! Are ya sayin’... **_you were the one who bought me that drink?!”_ **

She nods, giggling. “Guilty as charged, yeah! I almost never do that for anyone, but see, I was dealing at the table next to yours, and I remember just, like...feeling really, really bad for you, because you look so young, you know? You usually only see super old dudes get played like that by those kinds of women, and even then it’s upsetting. And I love my job, don’t get me wrong, but it gets really depressing when you see younger people go too hard, because you know it’ll absolutely bite them in the ass. And I couldn’t exactly go over there and tell those bitches to leave you alone, or I’d get fired. So I figured that the least I could do was help you numb the night a little bit, so I called over Julian—that was the waiter—and told him to take it out of my check.” A beat. “Of course, if I’d known you weren’t some twentysomething hotshot way in over his head and were instead a several-thousand-year-old demon, well...”

“HEY!”

She laughs again, swatting him teasingly. “Kidding, kidding! Did you like the drink, at least?”

“...yeah.” His face feels uncomfortably warm, and he’s very grateful that humans can’t see all that well in the dark. “I mean, it was _okay._ Human alcohol doesn’t really affect demons, so it’s not like it did all that much...”

“Hmm, alright.” Salomé winks at him, tilting her head away. “As long as you didn’t hate it.” 

* * *

**Asmodeus:**

> We’re going to be throwing a little party at Lucifugus’s 

house after class today. Do you want to join us, Salomé?

**Salomé:**

>I love parties!

>Er, what kind of party is this, though?

**Asmodeus:**

>Nothing special. Just eating, drinking Demonus,

and gossipping the night away. Totally ordinary.

>Meet me in my room at 6.

>Who knows, you might find yourself with a new

partner at the end of it all 💓

The good thing about gathering intel and traveling with Oz is that, 98% of the time, they’ll end up in some kind of party setting, so Salomé always takes several suitable outfits; though this evening she’s gone for a more casual look. A red high-collared blouson jacket, a white corset top, high-waisted blue jeans, and 14-eye Doc Martens with embroidered roses on the sides. “James Dean, James Dean...” she hums to herself in her bathroom mirror as she taps one foot against the tiled floor and glosses her lips. “...so hungry and so lean...” 

Then, she frowns—there’s the matter of the arrow to deal with. _He didn’t exactly say that this was going to be a dancing sort of party, so I could probably still wear the chain and it’s not like it’ll be falling out of this top...but I can’t be keeping an eye on it all night...also, he’s the Avatar of Lust and Lucifugus is an incubus from my Devildom Literature class, so who’s to say what they would consider a ‘normal’ party..._ “James Dean...you said it all so clean...” _I could change, of course, or just keep the jacket zipped, but this is such a cute look..._ “...and I knew my life would look alright...” _Wait, fuck, it has an inside pocket._ “...If I could see it on the silver screen...” Shaking her head at herself, she removes the chain from around her neck, unzips the left inner pocket, and slips in her precious cargo before zipping it up again and walking out of her room. 

As utterly batshit as her first 48 hours in the Devildom had been, the past few days have been...relatively nice. Sure, there’s the occasional instance of a demon trying to eat her during the few moments a day when she’s unsupervised, but a quick summoning of her _friend_ is quick to shut them up. She would never admit it, but she’s starting to get a bit of a kick out of it: a twenty-two year-old human woman knocking around millennia-old demons without even lifting a finger, almost undetectable. 

_Almost._ The angels being able to see her Stand certainly threw her for a loop, though after a bit of reminiscing on Bible school, it made sense. Angels were supposed to be purely souls, so it would make sense that they would be able to see a physical manifestation of one as opposed to just detecting an invisible one to eat, as a demon did. _Then, the demons must not have been able to because they’re the polar opposite, corrupted and blinded._ Sometimes she’s caught Solomon staring at her a bit too long, but he’s never asked her what exactly was going on, leading Salomé to assume that his divine housemates hadn’t said anything about it. _I’ll have to thank them for it._ She’s even heard a rumor going around that she’s had a spell cast on her to cause harm to anyone who attacks her as a deterrent, which seems awfully convenient. _Too convenient._

Other than that, everything else seems alright as well. The food is surprisingly decent and she’s managed to convince herself that the lack of sun is just like a particularly harsh Montréal winter. Satan has even been nice enough to take her for a walk around town, as well as to see a Super Blood Moon and to see some magical paintings.

(Even though his eyes are both blue and green and Beatrice’s are pure blue, his golden hair is short and hers goes all the way down her back, her neck is marred and his is not, everything else is still uncannily similar enough to slightly unnerve her.)

Arriving at Asmodeus’s door, she knocks softly twice. “Um, hey...it’s Salomé? It’s six, are we still going to Lucifugus’s?”

She hears shifting around in the room, before hearing that sugary-sweet voice call for her to come in—which she does, only to come across Asmodeus flat on his back with Lucifugus on top of him, both panting and thankfully mostly clothed. _Literally, what else was I expecting?_

« Osti! » she swears, putting both hands up. “Sorry, ah—should I give you guys a few minutes?” 

“Not at all,” purrs Asmodeus, moving forward so his head is hanging off the side of the bed, looking her dead in the eye. “You’ve come in at the perfect time. Why don’t you close the door and come join us, Sa-lo-mé~?”

 _Oh...oh, wow,_ **_damn, okay._ ** _Wait, what if they end up killing me?_

 _“What a way to go, though,”_ her Stand’s voice suddenly chimes in from the recesses of her mind, and she barely manages to not jump about a foot in the air. Instead, she closes the door softly behind her and sighs mournfully.

“You guys...have no idea how much it pains me to say this, because don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely down, but I like...literally **just** put on this makeup and it’s still drying, so...”

The demon on top of Asmodeus sits up, evidently startled out of the mood. “Wh—Asmo, did your charm _not_ work on her!?”

The Avatar of Lust pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was the same when we first met in the council room! I don’t understand it! She doesn’t have any magic, so it doesn’t make sense!”

Salomé chooses to approach him now, coming to sit at his bedside to meet his eyes. “Witches and wizards can’t be charmed?” 

“Not if their magic is strong enough, like Solomon. I’ll get him eventually, though,” Asmo says, removing his hands from Lucifugus’s sides and bringing them to rest on either side of her face. _Warm hands. Soft hands. These are the hands of a demon? Am I going to be Spider-Man kissed?_

“But now I’m curious to know what _you_ think of me, Salomé. Look at this face. Take it all in. Aren’t I the most gorgeous demon you’ve ever seen? Even without any magic?”

She nods sagely, partially because it’s the unabashed truth (she’s grateful he said _demon_ and not in general because she’d already laid eyes on Simeon and **dear sweet God she’d never wanted to be able to draw as badly as she did when she first laid eyes on him** ) and partially because she feels like his hands could tear apart her face if she said no, even as a joke. _Hi, honey eyes_. _I’d better make this good._ “Antinous himself would have paled in comparison to you.”

That perfect brow of his furrows. “Who?”

“Oh, it was thousands of years ago. Antinous was a young, beautiful man who was so beloved by a human emperor that, when he mysteriously died, the emperor was so wrought with grief that he not only built a new city in his name, he also raised his beautiful lover to the status of a _god_ to be worshipped throughout his empire. Not a lot of people do so today. But if it were you in his place, I bet everyone would still be worshipping you.”

Those honey eyes go wide, a smile growing across that heart-shaped face. _Looks like I said the right thing._ “Oooh, aren’t you the little sweet-talker? More, more! Praise me more!” _...that was literally my best line. Help. Do I bring out the French now?_

“Ohhh...maybe...hey, hey, human,” Lucifugus says, drawing her attention to him. “Do you like women more than men? Is that why the charm’s not working? Asmo, let’s have a succubus try to charm her.”

 _Wow, just flat-out there in the open like that. Huh, refreshing to know that no magic can change someone’s sexuality, even that of the Avatar of Lust._ Salomé stares at him for a moment, raising an eyebrow before grinning. “I like women _and_ men, actually. I’m not one to go through life with one hand tied behind my back.”

“That’s a good way of putting it,” Asmo hums, letting out a little whine as Lucifugus rolls off of him; the latter murmuring an _“I need to tell Baphomet we’ll be buying more Demonus on the way home.”_ “But tell me...aren’t you the slightest bit interested in having _your hands tied_ , even once?”

“Do I really strike you as the type? **I do the tying,** ” Salomé retorts, in her best kidding-but-no-I’m-not-really-kidding voice, to which both demons snicker. _Good thing I ordered Mammon not to mention the Stand incident._

* * *

Abyzou is, to put it mildly, not having the best of times, if the fourth glass of Demonus in her hand isn’t proof of that enough already. Sure, it was her idea to go to this party, and for once in the past century, she and Meridiana had managed to drag Tunrida out of that permanently freezing room of hers to go...but of course, it all had to be ruined. She downs the rest of her glass. Where the fuck were Meridiana and Tunrida, anyway?

The door to the bathroom opens, the light turns on, and she looks up from her reflection in the mirror, expecting her friends, but no: standing in the doorway, red jacket hanging off her shoulders, half-empty cup of Demonus in her hand, is the non-magical human exchange student. _Oh, fucking perfect._

“Uh—hey...sorry...the light was off, so I thought...”

“Oh no you don’t! I know what this is about!”

The human’s grass-green eyes widen. “I—huh?”

“I know how you pacted Mammon within what, two fuuuucking days?! You’re not going to get me, you got that?! I’m already stuck with Solomon! I’ll eat you before the request even leaves your mouth!”

“...I...don’t even know who you are.” An awkward silence enters between the two, and maybe if Abyzou was less drunk, she’d feel something wrapping around her ankle. “Wait, you’re one of the 72...?”

“Ugh. I hate thinking about it. Fuuuuucking smug asshole king of Israel with his stupid Celestial-blessed ring. Fuuuuck him and that fuuuucking shitty temple. Whenever I lay eyes on him my damn scalp hurts.”

The human looks like she’s having an existential crisis. “...sorry, you said king of Israel...?”

“Are your ears bad, human? I don’t remember cursing the likes of you. Yeah, king of Israel. Exploited us demons to build his fuuuucking temple which crumbled to the ground less than 500 fuuuuckin’ years later. A fuuuuckin’ waste.”

“Uh huh...is he like, immortal?”

Abyzou grimaces. “Unfortunately. All 72 of us pacted the bastard, and none of us are ever gonna get a crack at that fuuuuckin’ soul of his. Motherfuuuucker.”

“So you’re stuck in a dead-end contract.” Abyzou finds herself nodding along with the dark-haired human, and strangely, as she looks at her, begins to feel a sense of...calm. An almost extreme calm. “That sucks.”

 _Oh._ That wasn’t what she was expecting her to say at all. Then her ears prick up— _shit, Ephippas is coming!_ “C-close the door, human!” she hisses.

The human’s eyes widen, and she nods, quickly closing the door behind her and holding a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound of her breathing. Both women are deathly quiet for several moments, Abyzou straining her ears, listening for Epihippas. He passes in front of the bathroom with his shitty friends, not even noticing, and Abyzou lets out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Hey, human. Are you gonna finish that glass?”

She shakes her head, approaching the demon, green eyes now filled with visible concern. “You can have it, if you’d like...are you hiding from somebody?”

“Mmmmaybe,” Abyzou replies, but it sounds a lot...less gruff than she had been intending (if Abyzou were less drunk, maybe she’d feel the thing wrapped around her ankle vanish, but the calm remains). She tilts her head, taking in her mortal companion when she comes to a stop about a foot away. They’re about the same height, though the human is paler, with sharp features and... “I..I didn’t know humans could come with...sp...spots.”

“...spots? Oh...my freckles? Eh, I wasn’t born with these. They’re from the sun.” The human winces. “Probably gonna lose them all when I’m down here, now that I think about it.”

The words come out of Abyzou’s mouth before she can stop them: “That...that sucks. They look nice on you. They’re...like tiny skin stars, you know?”

The human is clearly startled, a blush creeping up that bare neck and onto her face. “Uh...th-thanks. I really like your hair! I’ve always wanted to go lime green too, but I don’t think it would fly at work...is it natural?”

 _Lime...right, that’s the green human world fruit._ “Um, yeah. Hey, um...what...what’s your name?”

“Salomé Desjardins...what’s yours?”

“...Abyzou.”

“Abyzou,” Salomé hums, holding out that half-full glass. “I like that name. So—who was that coming to the door?”

* * *

“Was it really that bad?” Meridiana asks. Tunrida nods, and the pink-haired succubus rolls her eyes. “They were cute! They thought you were cute! I don’t see what the problem is! Sheesh, you’ll never lose that Ice Queen nickname if you keep that up!”

“I’m cold,” Tunrida replies, a pale hand brushing some strands of ice-blue hair out of her face. “And it’s so loud here. And Asmodeus is practically having an orgy on the dining room table...it wouldn’t be so bad if there were less than 20 people here...but there are what? A hundred?”

Meridiana groans. “Less than eighty, don’t exaggerate. Look, we’ll get Abyzou and see how she’s doing. If she wants to leave, we leave.”

“Did you hear from her? She’s hiding from Ephippas again, isn’t she?”

Right on cue, the pinkette’s D.D.D. buzzes three times in a row.

**Abyzou:**

>in 2nd floor bthroom

>nt alone

>knock 3x

 _Not alone?_ “Please tell me she’s not hooking up in the bathroom. It’s cold in there,” Tunrida interjects, reading over her shoulder. “I’d...be really surprised if she was,” Meridiana sighs, pushing past some of the other demons as she and her friend begin to ascend the stairs. 

The absolute _last_ thing she’s expecting when she knocks on the door three times is for a charcoal-haired human to answer it and quickly usher them inside before closing the door. “MERI! TUNRI!” Abyzou shrieks, sitting on the tile floor. She’s not completely gone, but she’s certainly getting there. “This human...oh _man,_ this human. Fuuuuck Solomon and that fucking...uh...ring of wisdom! This girl is the real wise bitch!”

“All I did, Abyzou,” the human says, “was tell you the truth. One—men are scum. Two—he doesn’t deserve your attention. Three—you can do so much better. Four—you are _way_ too hot to acknowledge the fact that he even exists. Five—you don’t have to entertain any of his shit. Six—you owe him nothing. And of course, the ancient human saying—” Both Abyzou and the human slam their hands down and shout:

**_“GIRL HE ONLY FUCKED YOU OVER ‘CAUSE YOU LET HIM!”_ **

****"Too loud, I'm cold," Tunrida whines softly, and Abyzou's eyes widen. "Oh—oh shiiiiiit, I'm being rude. Meridiana, Tunrida, this is Saaaaaalomé Des...Desjaaaaaardins. The, uh...not-Solomon exchange student. 'lomé, these are my roommates, Meridiana 'n Tunrida. Meri over there's a succubus, yeah? So don't look in her eyes. Tunri's an ice demon. She'll freeze you."

The human nods. "Um...nice to meet you guys. We're hiding from Ephippas." 

"What if someone else needs to use the bathroom?" Tunrida asks, and Abyzou is coming up with _some_ harebrained excuse, but Meridiana's mind is a thousand miles away, turning that name over in her head. _Desjardins."From the gardens." That's **his** language._

"Hey, human, um..." _Fuck it._ « Parlez-vous français? »

The green-eyed human’s face lights up. « Oui! Je suis de Montréal, au Canada. Tu as un bon accent! On dirait que tu viens de Cantal. »

 _...is that what the region is called now?_ « Ah, merci..avez-vous visité le Cantal? »

« Oui. J’ai de la famille à Aurillac. »

**_...Interesting._ **

The succubus is snapped out of her thoughts when the door behind them slams open, and there's the damned wind demon himself. Meridiana and Tunrida move towards Abyzou and Salomé instinctively as, yet again, Abyzou and Ephippas get into another screaming match. _Fuck! People are going to see!...this is so embarrassing!_

The room temperature of the bathroom suddenly begins to drop dramatically, and Meridiana turns to see Tunrida shivering with her arms wrapped around herself. "G-g-g-get out-t-t," the ice demon says to the wind demon through chattering teeth. "Y-y-you're c-c-causing a sc-c-ene. T-t-too lo-lo-loud." Just as the words leave her mouth, more interested demons are poking their heads in and filing into the bathroom to observe the spectacle, and Meridiana wants to die right there. 

"Oh, fuck off! It's not your business!" Ephippas shouts at her before whirling to where the human has decided to stand between him and Abyzou. _Is she a fool?!_ "Hey, human! Get out of the way or I'll eat you right here, right now! Abyzou, we're having this out!"

The corner of Salomé's mouth raises in a half-smile. "Go fuck yourself."

And the wind demon goes _flying_ out the bathroom window. Like something's wrapped around his ankles, spun him around, and sent him careening through the glass. A mixture of laughter and gasps come from the spectators, and people pile in to see where Ephippas is now getting repeatedly slammed into the ground as if being punched by invisible fists. Abyzou makes her way to the front of the crowd and begins screaming profanities at him.

"So it's true, then?" an incubus says, and Meridiana notes he's talking to Salomé. "You've got a charm?"

Meridiana's heard the rumors, of course. That the human has a protective spell cast on her, either by Lord Diavolo or Solomon, that acts as an incredibly strong repellant for any attacking demons. But Ephippas hadn't even said he would have definitively attacked her, he merely _threatened_ her. And like all demons, she knows what magic feels like. Whatever threw Ephippas out the window and beat him into the ground sure as hell wasn't any magic. But there's something familiar about it, tugging at the recesses of her memory...

 _"I_ did it to him. The human has nothing to do with it," Meridiana finds herself saying, loudly, and everyone turns to her. She raises her chin defiantly. "Damn right she did," Tunrida throws in, and Meridiana silently thanks her. "It's a new form of curse she's been studying. Can someone go check on him, please? He's greatly annoying, but we don't want him to die." ("Thaaaaat's...debatable," Abyzou throws in from the window, but Meridiana shushes her).

Looking out the window, she sees that Ephippas is still conscious, though looking incredibly bewildered and a lot worse for wear. She turns to stare at Salomé. In almost all ways, she looks concerned, confused, and only slightly amused at Ephippas’s sudden defenestration and consequent beating into the ground. _A good actress._ But there’s something in those green eyes that gives her away, though Meridiana suspects she’s the only one who can pick up on it—a blazing, adrenaline-filled triumph, like a hellhound who had taken out a manticore. Dominance. ~~Like an ambitious man who she'd once helped raise from nothing to the top of the world.~~

And as everyone eventually files out of the bathroom, Meridiana’s eyes stay fixed on the human. Instinctively, a name quietly leaves her lips, one she hasn't dared to utter aloud in over a thousand years: « ...Gerbert? »

* * *

“I know that was you.”

The human—Salomé, her name is Salomé, like the mad princess from that human play she’d managed to get her hands on about half a century ago—turns from where she’s exasperatedly watching Asmodeus give out his personal brand of _goodbyes_ to his admirers. “Yet, you still covered me. Why?”

Tunrida shifts from foot to foot. _It’s cold._ “You protected Abyzou. Abyzou is my friend. Yet, she’s a demon, and you’re a human. Why did you protect her?” 

“In the human world, girls protect girls. The instinct has remained with me, I suppose.”

A beat. “I won’t tell anyone you did that. Meridiana won’t, either.”

“Thank you.” Salomé tilts her head slightly to the side. “Hey, actually, I could’ve sworn I’d seen you before, but now I can place it. You were at the museum the other day. At the exhibit with the anonymous artist, with those passionate paintings that expose demons’ cores.”

 _I’m cold._ The affirmation leaves Tunrida’s mouth without her intending. “You were there with Satan. Did you like the paintings?”

The human nods enthusiastically. “Oh yeah, very much! I’ve never seen anything like it—and I’ve been to a lot of museums all over the human world. And this is one time when anonymity really works in the artist’s favor—in the human world, it’s so hackneyed and milked to death, but with this artist...” She continues, and Tunrida listens intently with a small smile, basking in the praise despite herself. **They** ** _are_ ** **Tunrida’s paintings, after all.** At least Dantalion has the good grace to deny the rumors that they are his.

“...ahhh, sorry, I started rambling there,” the human laughs nervously. “I take it you’re an art person also?”

“You could say that,” Tunrida replies wryly. “You should go to more museums too. I know that the Devildom’s art scene isn’t exactly big, but we do have some unique things here.”

Salomé raises an eyebrow. “Would you take me, then?”

She almost chokes. _I know she was able to hurl Ephippas out the window without even moving, but does this woman fear nothing?_ “I...if I have the time, I wouldn’t mind showing you.”

A grin from the other, easygoing and confident. “Then, would you say we can be friends? Art friends.” She holds her hand out— _right, that’s a human world thing. Handshake._

“Ah...don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m still a _demon,_ you know,” Tunrida says, but decides to indulge, taking the human’s hand, expecting an exclamation on how cold she is, or for her to let go: but to her eternal surprise, the human’s grip is firm, and she slightly pulls the demon closer, and Tunrida catches her eyes in the moonlight.

Her eyes are green, like the human world tundra in spring and summer, green as far as the eye could see, when the sun never set, and Tunrida used to sit among the animals and feel the sun on her skin and _the warmth the warmth the warmth she is warm, this hand is warm and she does not recoil—_

“See you around,” Salomé says, letting go because Asmodeus is calling her name, and the more primal, demonic part of her, the part that craves this warmth, screams at her to just grab this human and run, to hold onto this warmth that she hasn’t felt since the portals were closed _(thank you, Mammon, you loud, loud annoyance)_ until the human is blue-lipped and frozen and the warmth is all hers. But that won’t bode well for her in the long run. So instead, she merely grabs at that bright red jacket.

“Wait—aren’t I too cold? You didn’t even jump when I touched you...”

She laughs. “I may have lived in the Californian desert and on the New Jersey beach for the past ten years, but I was raised in Canada, Tunrida. I can appreciate a good chill.” Asmodeus calls her once more, and Salomé takes off after him with a final wave in her direction, pulling up that red jacket to cover her shoulders.

Tunrida could swear that the human woman’s warmth lingers on her hand for another half hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the daily chats are filled with talking about such interesting events that we never??? get??? to see??? so i chose to use asmo’s “An Ordinary Party” chat as the setup for meeting the girls. the events with satan mentioned are from the “A Morning Walk”, “Invitation to the Museum”, and “The Night is Still Young” chats.
> 
> yes her fit for the party is a feminized nod to james dean’s iconic fit from rebel without a cause. yes james dean deadass said “well, i'm certainly not going through life with one hand tied behind my back” when asked if he was gay. yes i listened to james dean by the eagles on repeat while writing the segment in asmo’s room.
> 
> « Je te tiens~... » = I got you~...  
> « Bon soir, monsieur Mammon! » = Good evening, Mr. Mammon!  
> « Arrête de me gonfler. Je ne suis pas stupide. » = Don’t give me that shit. I am not stupid.  
> « CES GARCES! » = THOSE BITCHES!  
> « Osti! » = Dammit!/Fuck! (Canadian French)
> 
> the conversation between meridiana and salomé translates to (again, if i messed up, pls tell me b/c my french is rusty):  
> “Do you speak French?”  
> “Yes! I’m from Montréal, in Canada. You have a good accent! You sound like you’re from Cantal.”  
> “Ah, thanks. Have you visited Cantal?”  
> “Yes. I have family in Aurillac.”
> 
>  _abyzou:_ female demon blamed for miscarriages, infant mortality, and assorted bodily afflictions, including deafness. appears in the testament of solomon, punished by being hung by her hair in front of the temple.  
>  _meridiana:_ legendary succubus who supposedly formed a pact with a frenchman named gerbert d’aurillac, becoming his lover and helping him become pope sylvester ii.  
>  _tunrida:_ scandinavian female devil who allegedly roams the tundra to kill and eat solitary humans. one of the infernal names.  
>  _ephippas:_ arabian wind demon. appears in the testament of solomon.


	4. Nine is God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer has worries. Belphegor has an invisible visitor. Meridiana has a warning. Salomé has an effect on people. Mammon has suspicions. Leviathan has a promise to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all i fr cringed like 80 times when playing through the lessons dealing with belphie and how the whole thing was handled, like...yes i know that we need to meddle in the brothers' business to get the plot to progress but ffs weren't there any????? SMARTER???? ways we could have gone about it???
> 
> regarding that, it's a good thing that stand user salomé here has an extra pair of eyes, isn't it?
> 
> chapter title is from the wavves song of the same name

There’s a whole fucking ghost in the House of Lamentation, and it’s not the one Salomé can control.

She’s sure of it. She’d first heard the whispers the night when she and Asmo had snuck back into the House of Lamentation from that (surprisingly successful) party. She’d brushed them off as slightly-drunken hallucinations, though strangely enough, Demonus didn’t really affect her. _Mammon did say human alcohol doesn’t really affect demons, so it makes sense that it would work the other way around too._ She had a slight buzz that night, maximum—though whether it came from the drinks or what happened in the bathroom with the three demonesses, she couldn’t be sure.

But then the whispers keep coming. She can usually ignore them and fall asleep after half an hour, but they’re relentless. And she’s sure it has to be a ghost and not someone _alive_ calling out for her, because she’s had her Stand go out and look for the source, even getting out of bed and standing bleary-eyed in the dark hallway so as to allow her to explore more of the house (she’d scared the shit out of Asmo once when he was sneaking back in from a hookup), yet her friend had found nothing. And even worse, it appears that she’s the only one who can hear it, because after the Blue Crush revelation, Mammon has taken up the habit of being annoying in her room before bedtime, and the ghost had called out once...and he hadn’t heard a damn thing.

Of course, the answer could be that she’s losing her mind. But she doesn’t want to consider that option just yet.

“...el...”

_Oh fuck, not again._

“...elp...”

_Fuck off, dude, I got class in the morning._

“Help...someone help me...”

Salomé punts a pillow across the room in frustration, calling out her own little ‘ghost’ to bitch to the other. _“It’s past midnight! If you don’t shut the fuck up in the next ten seconds, we’ll really give you something to complain about!”_ her Stand shouts into the night. Not like she expects the other ghost to hear it, of course. She just _really_ doesn’t want any of the brothers hearing her and assuming that she’s going insane. _How embarrassing._

“Help...

_I. Hate. Everything._

Then there’s something: she doesn’t know exactly how to describe it, but it feels like a gentler version of the electricity she had felt at the airport. Then, as if planted by someone else, a thought: _the attic. The ghost is in the attic._

She sits up, shakes her head. Where did that come from? Was there even an attic in the house? Wait—from outside, there’s that little section at the very top and middle of the house. The six windows. “Why should I go?” she asks into the dark.

Silence. Then, another planted thought: _because you’re the only one who can._

“Son of a...fine. Fine, I'm going. But I want you to know that I hate you, and in exchange, do be quiet from now on,” Salomé calls out, swinging her legs out of bed and padding out of her room. No one else is in the halls, and she doesn’t hear anything behind any of the doors she passed as she wanders about. Eventually, she finds the entrance to the attic—a room with blue-tiled floors, old stone walls with green stains, and a beautiful spiral staircase.

“Help...”

“I’m here, dammit!” she growls exasperatedly. “Are you upstairs?”

“Yes, over here!” the voice calls out, evidently choosing to ignore the edge in Salomé’s tone. She puts one foot on the first step—

**“Salomé.”**

She whirls around to see, of all people, _Lucifer._ “Stop right there. You’ll go no farther...that’s not a place for humans. It’s dangerous.”

“Lucifer...come on, don’t play with me like that. It wasn’t funny.”

His brow furrows. _“Funny?”_

“So...that wasn’t you? Yeah, you don’t seem the type to do that...my bad for assuming...”

“ _What_ wasn’t me?”

She throws her hands up exasperatedly. “The voice calling me! I’ve been hearing someone begging for help for the past few nights, and tonight it led me to come up here. No one told me this house was _haunted._ ”

For the briefest of moments, that perfectly composed mask that he wears _breaks,_ surprise mixed with something that she can’t identify through sight alone. A flowering vine shoots out from her ankle and wraps around his. _Yeah, shock, dread, confusion...is that a bit of_ ** _guilt?!_ ** _Guilt for what!? There better not be a fucking body up there or some shit. Gross._

“Mammon is likely playing a prank on you,” the eldest demon brother says, and it’s as if the mask never cracked in the first place. “There are no ghosts in this house. Go back to your room.”

 _Liar, Mammon’s your scapegoat. I can feel it._ But it’s not like she wants to argue with the most powerful demon she shares a house with. She raises both hands in surrender and gets off the step, walking past him and towards the entrance back out into the hall, only to pause and turn back around.

“...you’re sure there are no ghosts?”

“Salomé, I have lived in this house for many years, and in all that time, I have never seen anything close to one.”

“Oh.” She pauses, shifting from foot to foot. “Well, if you see a ghost, can you ask them to leave me alone?”

There’s a twinge of amusement through the vine. “...Of course.”

Making sure to appear satisfied, she nods, allowing the vine connecting them to dissipate. “Thanks. Goodnight, I won’t come by here again.”

“That’s the answer I was looking for. Let us hope you actually mean it.”

 _Of_ ** _course_ **_I meant it. I have no intention of going up there myself, I don’t want to mess with this. Though..._ Her _friend_ fully manifests at her back, watching Lucifer as Salomé turns around, closes her eyes, and leaves the area leading up to the attic. The Stand stays at the entrance while Salomé’s footsteps grow softer and softer. Once they’re out of earshot, the demon’s face changes to one of bewilderment, and he practically **flies** up the stairs. Down the hall, the green-eyed woman raises an eyebrow, keeping her eyes closed.

 _What’s_ ** _up,_ ** _fucker?_

* * *

For some reason, there are some chairs in the second-floor hallway. Salomé’s not going to question why, but all the same, they’re awfully convenient for her little plan. So there she sits in her RAD uniform after class, eyes closed _(it won’t do good to be distracted)_ , essentially using her Stand as a VR headset as it makes its way towards the attic. It heads up three steps, then swivels its head around. _No sign of Lucifer. Nice._ The Stand proceeds up the stairs, coming to the top. Salomé’s vaguely aware of the sensation of sweat beginning to form on the back of her neck back downstairs, but dismisses it. _Focus. Focus._

There’s a door. It’s more like a gate, made out of bars of some kind of metal and bearing an intricate design. The door leads into an orange-toned room, littered with all sorts of objects and a bed. And on the bed...

_Oh fuck, it’s a body!_

The body on the bed moves, rolling over to where it’s facing the door. A male, pale-skinned with black-and-white hair, wearing a white shirt, a long blue cardigan, olive green pants, and brown boots.

_Oh fuck, it’s a living person!_

The male then yawns, and opens an eye—a deep magenta-to-purple gradient, just like Beelzebub’s. _Hi, dusk eyes..._

**_Oh fuck, it’s a living demon!_ **

Lucifer’s words come to her once more then, as the demon sits up, staring at the door with a furrowed brow: _“...that’s not a place for humans. It’s dangerous.”_ The sweat on her neck grows cold. _That’s a dangerous demon up there, then. Yeah, I’m just...going to stick down here, physically, at least. Even if Lucifer’s exaggerating..._ **_no, nope, non, no, fuck that noise._ ** _I really don’t want to get involved in this, especially if he’s so dangerous he’s up there with no way out. A literal walking red flag. Hope the voice will stop now..._

“—lome? _Salome!”_

“GAH! FUCK!” she exclaims, practically jumping out of the chair, commanding her Stand to dissipate. Solomon quickly takes his hand off her shoulder, where he’d evidently been shaking her, and takes several steps back. “What was all that about? You’re breathing like you just ran a marathon,” he asks, and Salomé waves her hands about as she rapidly blinks, trying to get ahold of her bearings. “I, uh...shit, dozed off. Had a fucked up dream,” she mutters, wiping at the sweat on the back of her neck. 

He’s not buying it, that much is obvious by the look on his face. It’s now that Salomé truly studies him, now knowing what Abyzou had spilled to her in the bathroom, so drunken and bitter four nights ago. Unblemished and almost unnaturally pale skin, pure white hair, and clear, sharp eyes. Almost abnormally pristine, like a porcelain artifact in a museum. Had she seen him in the street, she’d take him for her age, maybe two or three years older. But...assuming she was remembering the Bible study lessons right, almost 4,000 years...? And among demons and angels who clearly are closer to him in age than to her...

She’s never felt so... ** _young. Temporary._ ** _And even if I make it to 70, 90, 100...he’ll still be like this. Fuck, they’ll all still look the way they do now. Hello, mortality crisis!_

Then, her Stand’s voice, in the back of her mind, once more in that almost-mournful tone, though this time with an added note of incredulity: “ _All that time, and he has never been tired?”_

The once-king opens his mouth to say something else, only to be interrupted by the sound of a door slamming open. **_“STOP SCREAMIN’ OUT THERE!”_ ** Mammon shouts as he marches into the hallway from his room, and Salomé rolls her eyes.

“You just were a whole lot louder than she was,” Solomon notes while the white-haired demon approaches. Mammon makes a dismissive noise as he comes to lean against the table adjacent to her chair. “Anyway, what’re **you** even doin’ here, Solomon?” 

_Hm. So accusatory. They_ **_really_ ** _don’t fuck with him._

 _“He unsettles them greatly,”_ her Stand pipes up. _“A human living so long with so much power, with so many of their kind under his control...compared to him, in their eyes, you’re about as harmful as the average dragonfly, even with that pact.”_

_Think they’d freak if they knew about you? How they can’t detect you unless through physical contact, and even then I can control it? How there are others just like me out there? How the only people who can take you out have to be just like me?_

“I’m here because Levi invited me.”

“Wha? Levi invited YOU? To his room? No way, I don’t buy it.”

She perks up then. _Leviathan...hm, I’ve got some free time on my hands. Maybe I can check out his collection, re-read some TSL. I’ve never read it in English._

“I’m afraid it’s the truth.” Solomon then moves down the hallway in the direction of Leviathan’s room, and Salomé practically leaps out of her chair to follow him.

“Oi, Salomé! What’re ya followin’ him for?”

“I’d like to talk to Levi too, that’s all. I read TSL when I was younger, and I'd like to get back into it again. And I've seen his collection, so I'm going to ask him if I can maybe borrow the first few books."

Mammon lets out an incredulous snort. "Not happenin'. It's even less likely than Solomon bein' let in there."

She frowns at that, but then shrugs. "I'll never know unless I try to ask." _I did help him earlier, though, in getting back his money. Surely he could do me this small favor and let me read some of his books? Hell, I don't even have to leave the room if that's what he's afraid of. It's so cool in there, I wouldn't mind hanging around in there for a few hours, and I won't make any noise. He can't possibly be **that much of an ingrate...right?**_

* * *

“...so now you’re doing a TSL quiz face-off with him, and he said if you win he’ll make a pact with you?” Tunrida finishes, looking up from her sketchbook incredulously.

Salomé sighs, spreading her hands. “Yeah, pretty much. I mean, I regret getting into it with him _now_...but damn, he has a lot of nerve...especially considering I helped him out earlier...”

“Dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” Abyzou interjects before sticking the purple comfort candy in her mouth. “I can’t believe you even entertained that crap to begin with, and didn’t even yell at him in the process. You could’ve just gotten the books at the library.”

“Fair enough, but I’m already in too deep, even if I did get ticked in the heat of the moment. And I’m not much of a yeller when I get mad.”

“What will you do to prepare?” the blue-haired ice demon asks.

“Well, it’s not like I can read all those books in the time frame available. So I’ll probably just watch all the movies.” 

“Isn’t that like 12 hours in total? You really don’t half-ass anything, do you?” Abyzou murmurs, eyebrows raised. If she didn’t know any better, Salomé would have guessed the green-haired demon was impressed. “Ah, shit—Tunri, we’re gonna be late for math. See you guys later.”

She waves as Tunrida and Abyzou get up from the lunch table and head off, only to blink when she feels a weight settle on her shoulder—a certain pink-haired succubus sitting next to her, hands resting on Salomé’s shoulder, chin resting on top of those perfectly formed hands.

« Salomé, je dois vous avertir. »

For some reason, ever since receiving confirmation that Salomé could speak it, Meridiana only ever addresses her in French. She isn’t exactly going to complain about it, as it helps her stay grounded, but it’s curious all the same. The other demons seem to be able to understand her when she says something in the language (probably due to some property that allowed them to communicate with anyone who would be able to summon them), but they only ever respond in English—in contrast, she gets the sense Meridiana is actively trying without any magic, and it’s unexpectedly cute. Though sometimes the succubus says an incredibly old word, or uses a phrase that she’s sure came straight out of the middle ages. She’d giggled the first few times, but seeing the distant look in those peach-colored eyes whenever that would happen was sobering enough that she made sure never to do it again. 

« M'avertir à propos de quoi? » Salomé asks softly, eyes shifting to look at the succubus at her side, taking a sip from her bottle of some kind of Devildom juice that tasted like cherries.

« Vous devez perdre la concurrence. »

« Non. Je ne veux vraiment pas qu’il me l’impose. »

« Vous ne comprenez pas. C’est l’Avatar de l’Envie. Si vous le battez, il risque de s’envoler en colère, il peut vous attaquer. »

« Vous pensez qu’il perdrait le contrôle comme ça? Cela ne lui causerait-il pas des ennuis? »

« Oui. Mais il nous est difficile de nous contrôler lorsque nous sommes en colère. »

« Je suis sûr que ça ira. »

« Écoute, je sais que tu as ton petit... _talent,_ ainsi que ton pacte avec Mammon, mais il est beaucoup plus fort qu’Ephippas. Tu dois faire attention. »

« ... Je ne perdrai pas exprès pour alimenter son petit ego. C’est simplement une insulte pour nous deux. Mais, j’ai entendu dire que Lord Diavolo veut regarder. S’il est là, ça ne peut pas mal finir. » A beat, and Salomé moves to fully face her so she’s no longer speaking in her ear. « Pourquoi tu me préviens? »

« Parce que je vous aime. » 

« Eh bien, merci, mais pourquoi...? » 

There's a flash of recognition in those peach eyes, and she gets the distinct sense that she doesn't need to use her vines to be sure if she's telling the truth. Yet, her questions don’t fade. Meridiana giggles in response. « Sûrement je n’ai pas rencontré quelqu’un comme toi depuis des milliers d’années. » 

* * *

It’s halfway into Volume 2 and halfway into dropping kernels of the third bowl of popcorn into Beelzebub’s mouth that something begins to take root in Salomé’s mind. Henry and the Lord of Shadow teaming up to get the Lord of Fools, who ended up finding his lover Geldie frozen.

There’s something _familiar_ about it. A little _too_ familiar. She looks at the wailing Mammon out of the side of her eye. _Goldie, Geldie...that’s...oh wow, that’s something. It has to be a coincidence. Right?_

She’s fighting sleep and it’s winning when they’re at Volume 7 several hours later. The Lord of Emptiness’s failed rebellion, his eldest brother imprisoning him in the farthest corner of the world, all of the other brothers sympathizing with him but refusing to do anything out of fear.

She leans back, closing her eyes and stretching her arms over her head while Mammon provides commentary on how the other brothers should’ve done something. Beel is quiet. **Really** quiet. Salomé opens her eyes to see if he’s alright. His mouth is pressed into a straight line and his brow is furrowed. His words from their conversation when she’d asked about the seventh brother in the kitchen after her first day at RAD come to her.

_“...we have to treat him like he doesn’t exist...it’s not right. But since no one can defy Lucifer...”_

And those dusk eyes, now stone-cold. The same as she’d seen through the eyes of her Stand. The eyes of the demon in the attic, because humans don’t have gradient eyes like that. 

_Wait...what...could it be...this series...I’m tripping...no, but seriously...holy_ ** _shit. How. Why. What the fuck._ ** _Life really does imitate art. Do they realize it too? I’m losing my fucking mind. It’s like 3 am. It can’t be. But it’s too close...but these books were written years ago...but it’s_ ** _just too close..._ **

The implications behind this are too much to handle for her sleep-deprived brain, and she decides to come to the conclusion that this is _not_ something to think about when she’s running on fumes.

* * *

The Stand emerges out of Salomé without having to be called the second the green-eyed woman notices that Leviathan is growing agitated. Meridiana’s warning did not go unheeded. Thus, on Salomé’s silent order, the Stand floats over to and behind the purple-haired Avatar of Envy, and puts both white and purple arms under his arms, around his ribs in an embrace he cannot feel just yet. The arms begin to unravel, white and purple turning outwards to reveal nightshades and poppies growing on green vines, which make their way winding around the angered demon’s chest and arms. Part of the ‘skirt’ unravels too, winding around his lower legs and to the leg of the table close by, as a precaution.

Salomé herself is completely still and glassy-eyed while Leviathan seethes, except for her right hand, which is trembling. Her knuckles are white, the pencil in her tightly-clenched fist on the verge of snapping.

She’s never been good at handling when people are angry at her.

When she had told Solomon that she had felt his humanity, it hadn’t been in an exact, literal sense. Rather, it was in the way his _emotions_ had felt. Human emotions can be a strong thing, and should they be strong enough at the time of reading them, they can have an effect on her own current mental state as well, should she fail to prepare for them. However, demonic emotion is a much stronger animal: feeling Diavolo’s genuine calmness and positivity when they had first met gifted her with a sense of warmth she hadn’t believed was possible, and feeling Mammon’s irritation towards her that same day gave the distinct sensation that she had been emotionally backhanded across the face, _hard._

And now Leviathan’s negativity is crashing upon her mind like waves battering an island lighthouse in a storm.

 _I have to speed it up._ She closes her eyes briefly, looking to anyone watching like she’s attempting to calm down. Which is true. Only, she won’t be the only one to do so.

 _Push back. Push back. These feelings are not mine. My calm is stronger. Breathe, focus. Breathe, focus. There’s no one else in this room, no one else in this world. It’s empty of all but us. No one but me...and this man of jealous anger who_ **_will_ ** _be calmed._

When she opens her eyes, her grip on the pencil beginning to loosen, chanting those words over and over in her mind, focusing on him, he _transforms._ For one, he now bears horns of purple and black, curved beautifully in a way reminiscent of coral. He has a black snake’s tail, purple diamond-like markings on his neck, and a black outfit with white and purple accents. _Huh. This is his true form? I was expecting something more...monstrous. Well, makes my job easier._

She’s vaguely aware of shouting close by _(Mammon?)_ , but she elects not to listen, instead throwing the full weight of her concentration on her Stand. He moves to lunge, she grits her teeth, willing him to feel the vines embracing him.

**_CALM! THE! FUCK! DOWN!_ **

By a miracle in Hell, the effect kicks in just then.

As if struck on the head, he stops in his tracks, unable to move, clutching at his hair, eyes going wide, beginning to stagger slightly, clearly lightheaded. The vines coil tighter. That’s all she gets to see before Lucifer suddenly swoops in between the two of them, evidently also having transformed. _Holy shit._ She’s standing behind him, so she can’t really see him in all his regalia, but seeing bull’s horns sprouting from his head and four wings sprouting from his back is enough to stun her. _“He’s very impressive,”_ her Stand comments from looking over Leviathan’s shoulder. _“But not what should be focused on right now.”_

“I believe you were going to settle this via a QUIZ, weren’t you? Not through violence. You’re out of control, Levi.” _Oooooh, someone’s in that_ ** _deep_ **_shit._

“Lu...Lucifer...” His voice, while definitely scared, sounds mostly drowsy and disoriented, as if he had just woken up. _Gotcha, bitch._ She has to restrain herself from pumping her fist in triumph.

“...uh, hey, Levi,” she interjects, peeking around Lucifer’s black wings. “You don’t sound...or look too hot. Do you feel okay?”

“...yeah, but...I’m just...really...tired...” he blinks rapidly, confusion overtaking his face. “...like I’m being _hugged...”_

“Hey, hey,” Salomé chooses to cut him off then before he can elaborate, voice gentle, stepping around Lucifer and approaching Leviathan with her hands folded over her heart. She hears noises of protest behind her, but elects to ignore them. _My words need to be truthful, yet..._ “Just breathe, okay? Look at me, yeah, right at me, in the eyes. Thank you...thank you for staying back. This was...such a **rotten** idea, I’m so sorry it came to this when it never had to. Let’s forget this happened, okay? Could you change back?”

A tired and true tactic. She’s had to do this _a lot._

Through the vines, she can feel embarrassment (probably from having Lucifer step in), more general negativity, confusion, but most importantly, the calm her Stand has imparted onto him. _Even though it’s temporary, he’s not likely to pull this crap again. Now that he knows Lucifer went all out like this._

He stares at her, confused and sleepy and still bitter, but does so. She smiles, keeping that soft-spoken tone. “There we go. We’ll talk later, okay?” On her silent command, her Stand returns back into its original form, releasing him and returning to her side (it’s kind of funny how he then whips his head around in confusion). Lucifer orders him to go to his room to cool down (“I already feel calm,” the orange-eyed demon mumbles, half complaining and half bewildered, but he does so), she’s vaguely aware of the brothers whispering among themselves how Lucifer hasn’t reverted to this form to protect someone in a very long time, Lucifer retorting that it’s his obligation to clean their messes, and when she glances in their general direction, she sees Mammon looking vaguely pained. _Um...what?_

“Salomé, I must say, I’m very surprised,” comes the voice of Lord Diavolo, and she turns to face him, alert and trying to look as nonchalant as humanly possible. _Oh_ **_fuck,_ ** _why him?_ “Levi was definitely going to attack you, yet you immediately went to calm him as though it wasn’t directed at you. I’ve never seen anything like it, especially from a human.” 

A shrug, a sheepish grin. Innocent. “Please, it’s nothing, Lord Diavolo. I’ve been told **_I have_** **_a calming effect_** **_on people, so I simply thought to put it to use._** ”

And it’s not like he can call her out on it, because it’s (technically) the truth.

* * *

“Ya did the thing again!”

Salomé looks up from the spread of papers as Mammon barges into her room once more. There are some photos among them as well, and maybe if Mammon had been looking closer, he’d notice that these were the papers she had been holding when she had arrived in the Devildom.

“Good evening to you too. What thing?” She cracks the bubblegum in her mouth.

“Y’know...the thing!” He wants to elaborate more, but the words refuse to leave his throat, her order of silence still intact.

Thankfully, she seems to catch his drift, lowering the photograph she’s holding, gaze sharpening. “And?”

“And—” That’s when it hits him. _And what?_ Whatever she’d done hadn’t hurt him, and it hadn’t seemed to hurt Levi either. It just made them...increasingly calm and drowsy. Levi had even said it felt like he was being _hugged._

There’s something else he’s come to know as well—Salomé isn’t cruel. She doesn’t abuse their pact like the witches; in fact, aside from ordering him to give Levi back his money, not to touch the arrow, and not to tell anyone about the little _incident,_ she hasn’t used it at all. He remembers that flash of anger in her eyes when he had confirmed that she had seen him with the witches at that human world casino—not angry at him, but at them. That was the only time he’d ever heard her raise her voice as well, and she’d even apologized immediately afterward. She understands him, she’d said. She said she knew he couldn’t help his stealing habit, that it was something he _had_ to do, second nature, and she hadn’t been angry. She also talks to him more than other demons, Beel had pointed out to him the other day when he’d been snooping around looking for something else of value in her room and his younger brother had been eating from a box of sweets hidden in her closet (“ _Abyzou got me that, dammit!”_ he remembers her complaining after catching them 5 minutes later). 

“—I smell sugar,” Beel’s voice comes from the door, and Salomé’s gaze loses its edge as she breezes past Mammon to greet the orange-haired demon with an easy smile. “I’ve got some bubblegum from the human world. Picked it up a few minutes before I came here. Want a piece?” 

“Don’t give him any, he won’t even chew it!” the white-haired demon complains as he follows her, but his human charge waves him off, putting down the photo in her hand on her bed and picking up a pack of gum on her pillow, crawling across the bed to give Beel a piece. Out of curiosity, Mammon leans over and glances over the picture—a polaroid.

It’s of a young human woman, around Salomé’s age and height, wearing the same light blue oversized hoodie that Salomé can often be found wearing—hell, she’s wearing it right now. She wears a light yellow tennis skirt, white socks, white sneakers, and there’s a beautiful coastal view behind her. But what _really_ catches his eye is the fact that had it not been for the slight difference in eye color and tree-like scars marring her neck, the young woman smiling at the camera **could absolutely 100% pass for Satan in drag**. And scrawled on the white bottom part of the photo in handwriting that’s definitely _not_ Salomé’s: _Sopelana, 2019. Per sempre tua. - Bice._

“Don’t eat the wrapper!” Salomé exclaims, and Mammon looks back up to find Beel shrugging. “It tastes good...”

She sighs, shaking her head and laughing before handing over the pack. “You know what, here’s the whole thing. I can get it whenever I want when I head back.” Beel smiles, and for some reason that he _really_ doesn’t want to consider, the whole interaction sets Mammon off.

“Seems to me you’ve been spendin’ an awful lot of time here ever since the night of the DVD marathon, Beel.”

Salomé’s face twists into one of incredulity as she turns back around to face him. “That was _literally_ last night!”

“You’re in here too, Mammon,” Beel points out. “And a lot more than me. I mean, you’ve even left a cell phone charger here. And a toothbrush, too. That’s how much you’re over here.”

He feels cornered. “W...well, that’s because, uh...you know...I’ve gotta look after this human, don’t I? It’s my job...”

“Wow, if only the you of two weeks ago could’ve heard that,” aforementioned human mutters.

His younger brother only shrugs in response. “Hm. You know, I could really go for a soda right now. I’m going to go run to the kitchen.” He leaves, and Salomé waves after him. Mammon takes this opportunity to walk around and get right in the human’s face.

“...listen. The next time your life’s in danger, I’m gonna be the one to save you, all right? Don’t you forget that.”

She’s looking at him like he’s grown three heads, and that old defensiveness flares right back up. “And if I can’t manage to save ya, then make sure you die, got it?! I don’t want no one else steppin’ in and savin’ you, alright?! **It’s me or no one, understand?!** ”

“Uh...” she raises her eyebrows, letting out a huff of uncomfortable-sounding laughter. “...may I ask why?”

“B...because...ya know, because it’s my JOB!”

She grins wolfishly. “Cute. But am I not allowed to take care of myself as well? You know better than anyone else that I can.”

He opens his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by the sound of a D.D.D. ringing. Salomé fishes hers out of her pocket, winces, and answers.

“Oh...hey...you sure?... Alright, hold on, I’m coming.” She sighs, hanging up. “It’s Levi. Asked me to meet him in the planetarium. See you later.”

“And you’re just... _okay_ with that, goin’ alone? He was gonna kill ya!”

A shrug, that sharp glint returning to her eyes. “But he didn’t. I stopped him. And I’ll do it again if it comes to that point. And remember, **_you aren’t allowed to say anything about it.”_ ** Her gaze softens. “Don’t get me wrong, I really do appreciate the sentiment. I do. But from an outsider’s standpoint, this whole debacle was between him and me to start with. Thus, it should only be him and I solving it.” She casually moves to brush some of her hair over her shoulder, and there it is again—that very faint floral scent. He’s about to respond, only to freeze up at feeling a strange sensation.

It feels as though an invisible hand is gently patting him on the head, as if to reassure him. His head jerks up, looking around wildly—but there’s nothing. The feeling and the faint scent are gone just as quickly as they came. When he looks back to where she had been earlier, the human is gone down the hall, casually making her way to meet his brother as if said brother hadn’t just tried to kill her barely 3 hours ago. A question pops into his mind, one that makes him (unexpectedly) incredibly uncomfortable:

_Does she really even need you at all?_

* * *

“ _Finally,_ ” Leviathan says as she makes her way into the planetarium. He’s sitting in one of the chairs in the far corner of the room, behind the indoor fountain. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up.”

She spreads her hands apologetically before crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the wall adjacent to him. _Looks like the anger came back, though more subdued. Better distract him from it._ “Sorry, sunrise-eyes. Mammon held me up.”

“It took you long enough—” Leviathan’s aforementioned sunrise eyes go almost comically wide. “ _What_ did you just call me?”

“Sunrise-eyes...'cause you’ve got sunrise eyes...” _Gah, that...ooh, I wish I could do a take two._

He’s staring at her in a way that makes Salomé wonder if she’d broken his brain. “...I do?”

She nods, grins. _Better just own it, then._ “Yeah, you do. Reminds me of the waterfront at dawn, whenever I’m lucky enough to be up early to catch it. What, is it bad? I won’t say it again if it is.”

He stares at her slack-jawed for a minute longer and she’s vaguely considering reading him once more to make sure he’s not going to try to kill her again. Then, he lowers his head and jerks the back of his hand up to his mouth, muttering something incomprehensible.

 _“His ears are red,”_ her Stand observes from the corner of her mind.

_I mean, at least he’s not mad...I think._

He inhales very sharply before his head shoots back up, though there’s still a visible tint to his ears and face. “Look! When I call for you, you need to come right away, understand? Don’t walk, run. I want you moving at light speed. Like the way Henry races over whenever his best friend the Lord of Shadow calls on him. You saw the TSL DVDs, so you should know. He comes riding up on the winged unicorn that he won off the Lord of Fools in a bet.”

 _...are you saying you want a relationship like that?_ Evidently, the thought shows on her face, and he quickly reverts back to defense. “...Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying you and I are best friends or anything. As if. So, do you know why I called you here?”

 _Fuck kind of question is that?_ “...because you would’ve killed me in there if you didn’t feel tired all of a sudden, so now we’re going to patch things up?”

“...EXCUSE ME? What do you mean **patch things up?** In order to **patch things up,** we would have had to be on good terms to begin with, wouldn’t we? I don’t remember you and me—”

She straightens up, jaw clenching and vines manifesting around her left hand before she cuts him off, though deciding not to raise her voice. _The audacity...!_ **“Cut the shit,** ** _Leviathan. If you keep talking to me like that, I’m leaving._** In case you forgot, _I assisted you in getting back your money and put my soul on the line in the process._ I did that **as a favor to you** because I thought you were wronged. I thought we were cool after that. Not best friends or anything, but nothing bad between us. And now, after the _bullshit_ you just pulled today, **I came here as yet** ** _another_** **favor to you,** don’t get it twisted. Say what you called me here to say.”

He stares at her mutely for what feels like an eternity, and as a precaution, more vines spring out of her hand and arm, slowly inching their way towards him. She doesn’t flinch. _Wonder if he knows it was me back there._

“...alright, look,” he says finally. “You remember why we decided to have that competition in the first place, right? It was to see who the biggest TSL fan was. And I told you if you won, I’d enter into a pact with you. That little trump card you pulled out was a real dirty trick...but a promise is a promise. It really kills me to do this...it makes my stomach churn...”

_...ah, shit. The things one says in the heat of the moment._

She loosens her expression, silently commanding the vines to vanish. “Hold on, hold on,” Salomé interrupts, voice taking on a much gentler tone than before, similar to earlier in the council room. “You know, you really don’t have to if you don’t want to. I was ticked when I mentioned a pact and I understand if you think it was out of line. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do just because of that quiz. I’m not a monster. If you’re not comfortable, we can just forget the whole thing. Would you like that?”

Leviathan gives her the silent stare again, and she’s considering reading his emotions again just to figure out what exactly is going on in there, but then he shakes his head, a small smile present. “Like I said, a promise is a promise. I’ll keep my end of the bargain. I’ll do it. I’ll make a pact with you.”

“You’re absolutely, 100% sure you’re okay with this?” Another nod. “Okay then, sunrise-eyes. Let’s do this,” she says, holding out both hands to him. He takes them in his own, recites words in an incomprehensible language to her human ears, and then there’s an electric sensation for a flash of a second right below the left side of her collarbone. 

Then his face goes right back to the defensive as he takes his hands away. _Oh, here we go again._ “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there? A normie human like you asking to make a pact with a demon like me? You must have some sort of ulterior motive. This is about more than just making a pact, right? You’re after something else. Go on, spill the beans...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so late LMAO but i really got into this chapter
> 
> the conversation between meridiana and salomé translates to (again, if i messed up, pls tell me b/c my french is rusty):
> 
> "Salome, I have to warn you."  
> "What do you have to warn me about?"  
> "You need to lose the competition."  
> "No. I really don't want him to lord it over me."  
> "You don’t understand. He’s the Avatar of Envy. If you beat him, he’s likely to fly into a rage, he may even attack you."  
> "You think he would lose control like that? Wouldn’t that get him in trouble?"  
> "Yes. But it is hard for us to control ourselves when angered."  
> "I'm sure it will be fine."  
> "Look, I know you have your little...gift, as well as your pact with Mammon, but he's a lot stronger than Ephippas. You need to be careful."  
> "...I won't lose on purpose to fuel his little ego. That's just insulting to the both of us. But, I heard that Lord Diavolo wants to watch. So if he's there, it can't possibly end that badly." ... "Why are you warning me, though?"  
> "Because I like you."  
> "...Thank you, but why?"  
> "I guess I haven't met someone like you in a thousand years."  
> \--  
> Stand Name: 「???」  
> Music Reference: ???  
> Stand Master: Salomé Desjardins  
> Namesake: Salomé (U2 song), Desjardins (Ingrid St-Pierre song)
> 
> Destructive Power: B  
> Speed: B  
> Range: B  
> Durability: A  
> Precision: C  
> Developmental Potential: A
> 
> Appearance: 「???」takes the form of a white, purple-veined humanoid made out of flowering vines. It's slightly larger than Salomé, with a perpetual large purple smile and purple eyes. It has no hair but wears a veil and a long, sleeveless poofy white and purple-veined dress that is actually part of its body. Notably, the body cuts off at the end of the dress and the Stand lacks legs.「???」can also be partially manifested in the form of said vines with white poppies and nightshade flowers growing on them that Salomé can use as ropes or tentacle-like appendages.
> 
> Stand Ability:
> 
> 1\. Empathy: 「???」 can unravel part of itself to wrap its vines around a person, allowing Salomé to ascertain their current emotions, with special focus on how calm they are.  
> 2\. Timed Narcoticization: If 「???」’s vines are wrapped around a subject for two minutes, the subject will enter a relaxed and sleepy state, and any physical pain they are experiencing will fade. Five minutes, the subject will appear to enter a state of intoxication and hallucinatory delirium. Eight minutes with the vines, the subject will fall asleep. Ten minutes with the vines wrapped around them will cause death. Should the vines be retracted and the Stand remains activated before ten minutes, the effects of 「???」 will remain for either double the time the vines were wrapped around the subject or until Salomé is knocked unconscious (ex. if the vines are removed at 8 minutes the subject will be asleep for 16 minutes).  
> 3\. [REDACTED].
> 
> Weaknesses:
> 
> 1\. Depending on which part of either「???」or Salomé's body the vines came from, should they be broken, Salomé will take damage in the same area.  
> 2\. Salomé can control the speed of「???」's effects, though doing so is extremely mentally taxing and requires total concentration on her behalf, thus leaving her extremely vulnerable to outside attacks. On top of that, she can only speed up the effects on one subject, so if others are entangled, they will experience the effects of 「???」at their normal speed. As a result, she tends to let the vines operate at their normal speed unless in a dire emergency.  
> 3\. [REDACTED].


	5. Can't Pin Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salomé has a record to play. Lucifer has his expectations pleasantly subverted. Leviathan has an oath he wants to swear. Abyzou has an accidental brush with the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise y'all salomé's stand has a name and an entire stats page written out, i just don't want to reveal it yet (but if anyone has any suggestions/guesses i'm certainly open to hearing them 👀 )
> 
> chapter title is from the marina song of the same name

“Okay, seriously, give me an estimate. How much is all of this worth?”

“You’re starting to sound like Mammon,” Levi mutters nervously, and Salomé lets out an overdramatically offended gasp as she turns around from his shelves. “How rude! I’m not asking because I’m going to clear you out. I’m just curious...a collection like this must’ve taken you, what, a couple of decades and how much money...?”

“It’s _priceless,_ ” the demon replies somewhat snappily, and she throws up her hands and shakes her head. “Right, right. Fair enough. Okay, I think...the first four volumes for now...”

“What do you mean _for now?_ ”

“I said I wanted to _get back into it,_ that doesn’t mean just reading the first few and giving up...!” Something catches her eye, and she reaches back into the shelves and pulls out a vinyl record, meticulously kept in its original sleeve. “...holy shit, I’ve read about this record! On some dead message board, years and years ago...how did you get your hands on it? Rumor said it was cursed or something!”

“I have connections,” Levi replies testily, and she sighs. “Let me borrow this too? Please? Look, I’ve got a vinyl collection at my dad’s house. I know how to take care of records, I’m not going to break it.”

He shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. “Well, I don’t know what you’re planning on doing with my record, but...just don’t sell it, understand?”

Her face wrinkles up in distaste. “Do I _look_ like Mammon to you?”

Levi ignores that and begins to rant to her about proper record care. She sighs once more, her Stand suddenly emerging without being consciously called as she gathers up the four books and record in her arms. Her Stand thus proceeds to go past where Levi is still talking, over to those small glass tables, and picks up several manga stacked one on top of the other—and then drops them back down again, allowing the sound of them hitting the glass to reverberate through the room (not hard enough to break by any means, but certainly noticeable). The demon spins around, clearly confused. “Wh—hey...those manga weren’t like that earlier...” The Stand slyly nudges one of the books off the edge, and he goes completely still, white as a sheet, while she commands it to dissipate. 

“Alright, I’ll take the best care of all your stuff, I promise. Well—” She lightly nudges his ajar door open with her foot. “—I’ll be going now, sunrise-eyes. See you around.”

He makes some kind of noncommittal noise, and the last she sees of him is him beginning to crouch slowly as if he’s watching for something. It’s not until she’s heading down the hall and towards the stairs that the culprit pipes up.

_“A strange man.”_

_You didn’t have to do that, you know,_ Salomé silently rebukes her, only half-serious. _Now he thinks his room is haunted._

_“I am a manifestation of all you are and work to carry out your desires, conscious or otherwise. And you thought it was amusing.”_

_Yeah, well. At least I can order him to be silent about it if he gets wise, now that we’ve got a pact. Can’t exactly go doing that with everyone else. The rumor that it’s a spell is good for attacks, but poltergeist type stuff like that, don’t do it with anyone else...we can’t have them getting too suspicious._

_“I can’t be hidden forever. The time will come.”_

_Hopefully, that time won’t come for a while. It wouldn’t be good to reveal this advantage until there’s some sort of emergency._

_“That’s not the only reason why. You also think it’s amusing to catch them off-guard. Thinking that you're ordinary when you have this ability.”_

_I—_

_“You can’t lie to me.”_

She rolls her eyes, managing to open the door and walking over to the bed, gently placing down her borrowed books, with the record perched nicely on top of them all. Looking around her room, she sighs.

 _There’s a whole dining room set in here, a horse statue, an urn, and a whole fucking tree, but no turntable? There was that one up **there** , but, ahaha, absolutely_ **_not._ ** _Now, which out of all of them is most likely to have one...?_

* * *

In Lucifer’s eyes, today has been nothing short of utterly insane.

As if his ever-growing workload wasn’t enough, he’s had a migraine come and go for the past two days. And then on top of all of that, Leviathan had to go and make an attempt at killing the exchange student. He didn’t even come close, of course (even strangely holding himself back before Lucifer had even come to the young woman’s aid), but it was still extremely foolish of him. He’d even heard rumors of a spell put on Salomé that causes harm to come to demons who attempt to attack her, placed by either Diavolo or Solomon—and upon asking the former, he’d denied ever doing such a thing, so it must have been that shady sorcerer, which seems rather out of character for him.

A knock at the door distracts him from his thoughts, and he calls out: “The door’s open. Come in.” The door opens, revealing Salomé herself, holding a book in her left hand and something flatter-looking in her right.

“Uh, hi. Hope I’m not being a bother...?”

“Ah, Salomé, it’s you,” he says, rising from the chair to approach her. “Today really was quite the disaster, wasn’t it?”

She shrugs, a lopsided grin appearing on her face. “It’s fine, really. I’ve had wilder days.”

He raises an eyebrow at that, coming to a stop a few feet away. “Have you now?” Granted, from what he had seen, she’s adjusted to life in the Devildom almost unbelievably seamlessly for a non-magical human, so it wouldn’t be so far-fetched to believe that she had lived a strange life by human standards.

She nods casually. _What an odd mortal._ “Thanks for helping me out back there. I owe you one.”

“You’re welcome. Despite all that’s happened, you should know that Levi’s not normally like that. He may be a high-ranking demon, but he’s quite harmless by nature. Try not to hold it against him. So tell me, what brings you here at this hour?”

“Ah, right. So I was hanging out with Levi earlier, and long story short, he let me borrow this, and—” she brings up the flat thing in her right hand for him to see, and his eyes widen at the sight, cutting her off. “—wh... **is this what I think it is?!”**

She blinks, evidently surprised by his reaction. “...you know about it? I didn’t think you’d be the type to be into TSL...”

“Oh, no. What interests me is the person who served as the first composer for the movies. You see, the composer I speak of is dead now, he killed himself. The final song he wrote before his death was meant to be used in the scene where the Lord of Corruption puts a curse on the heroes. But due to the composer committing suicide, they decided not to use that track. They saved it, but didn’t release it to the public...”

“...which is when some people crowdfunded vinyls with the OST in full, complete with the missing track like this one here, which ended up supposedly being cursed and killing the owners. Right?”

Now it’s his turn to be surprised, albeit mildly. She shrugs. “What? I remembered the story from some dead internet boards a few years back. I thought it was just made up to scare people. Anyway, see, I was _going_ to ask you if there was a turntable I could use, but now that won’t do. So what I’d like to ask now: you want to listen to this tonight, don’t you?”

He nods, and she hands it to him.

“Okay. Then, can I stay with you while you listen to it? Just for a little bit. I want to hear it too, and I brought a book. I won’t make any noise, I promise.”

 _That_ catches him off-guard. He’d expected her to simply leave it with him. _Is she serious?_ Lucifer searches her face for any hint of deception and finds himself unable to find any. His mind returns to the incident in the room leading to the attic—she had been perfectly complacent when it came to leaving, and never went back. Yet, saying that she had _heard_ someone calling had certainly thrown him for a loop, enough to make him wary enough to fortify the already incredibly strong curse on the door (even though he could’ve _sworn_ he felt someone staring at him from the doorway despite the fact that all of his brothers were in their rooms and Salomé was heading back to hers). She shouldn’t have been able to hear _anything_ coming from there, and who was to say if, by some anomaly, she was called there once more?

He decides to test her.

“You see, we demons can’t resist temptation. When there’s something we really want staring us in the face, we have to have it. That’s simply how we are.” Her expression changes, eyes shifting to the side in confusion, _where are you going with this_ practically written across her face. “Right now what I want is to stay up all night listening to this record. I can’t help it...I have to do it. But when you decide to leave, don’t think that means you’re free to climb the stairs to the attic. That place is off-limits.” 

Again, she catches him off-guard. She actually _laughs._

“Wait, seriously, is _that_ what this is all about? Why would I want to go up there? You _did_ say it was dangerous there. And you see...” The lopsided grin appears again, tilting her head to the side. “...I quite like living my weird little life, and I’d be very sad to leave it so soon, especially now when it’s gotten far more strange than it’s ever been.”

Lucifer allows a huff of amusement to leave him. He’s pleased—the young woman clearly knows her place, and doesn’t appear to be particularly bitter about it. He prides himself on his choosing her for this program, as random as it had been. “Very well. Yes, you may stay, Salomé.” She smiles brightly, moving to sit on the sofa and he goes to play the coveted record on the gramophone above the fireplace before returning back to his desk and paperwork. The music floats through the room, the human on his sofa is immersed in her book, and he’s making some actual progress in his work.

Until his headache begins to come back 2 songs into the record, and he winces, rubbing his temples, knowing that if it begins pounding again he won’t be able to enjoy this long-desired music—then there’s **an odd sensation.**

His brow furrows. He could swear he feels _something,_ almost like the wind (but the windows are closed, it couldn’t be), brush past his hair and wrap securely around his head. Lucifer touches the side of his scalp—nothing. He doesn’t even realize that he’s patting the sides of his head for at least 2 minutes trying to find something that clearly **isn’t there** until he catches Salomé staring at him from her seat with a look of confusion and slight concern.

“...um...are you alright over there?” 

“...yes, simply—” **_Oh._ **He blinks, once, twice: the headache is gone. Instead, an almost intoxicating calm practically reverberates through his body, the tension present before practically a memory. “...it’s nothing,” the demon replies eventually, and the human shrugs, returning her gaze to her book as Lucifer returns his now cleared mind to his work.

The headache returns two more times, and each time he raises his hands he feels that same sensation of something wrapping snuggly around his head which soon dispels it. Salomé leaves after the first playthrough with a smile and a “Thanks again, goodnight.” He then continues to work throughout the night, savoring the music: it’s not cursed as it was promised, but it’s quite good nonetheless. And just as the human had told him, he does not feel a tug from the attic’s curse to go and guard it against prying eyes. _Knows her place indeed._

Maybe if he’d kept looking in Salomé’s direction for a moment longer after the first instance of the headache’s return, he would have noticed the smug, satisfied little grin which had flickered across her face.

* * *

Mammon’s voice comes from close by. “...Eh? Salomé, didn’t expect to see you here. Are you here to see Levi, too?”

She looks up from her D.D.D. with mild surprise. “Yep. Asked me earlier to meet him at 5pm, and well, it’s 5pm and here I am.”

“Hold on, ya mean he called you over here as well? Doesn’t he know we’ve got better things to do?”

“I finished my homework just now, so I really...don’t. If you have something better to do, why didn't you just refuse...?”

Mammon conveniently ignores that. “I mean, what’s goin’ on with him? He’s always tellin’ everyone to stay outta his room, but now all of a sudden he sends us a message askin’ us to hurry over...eh, whatever. Let’s just go inside and figure out what this is about. Yo, Levi! We’re comin’ in, okay?”

The white-haired demon goes to the door, opens it halfway...and then freezes. She attempts to look over his shoulder, only for him to close it abruptly.

“...hold on. Ya know what? Suddenly I’m having second thoughts. I’m not goin’ in. And don’t you go in, neither...I’m getting a real, real bad feeling about this for some reason. Listen, we need to get outta here, and quick—”

She raises an eyebrow. “Why? What’s going on in there?”

“TOO LATE!” Levi shouts, throwing open the door, and Salomé bursts into startled giggles.

“D’AAAAAAAH!”

“I’m not about to let you slip through my fingers. loool Not now that you’re already here! Lololol.”

She freezes, all laughter dying. “...how did you just say that out loud?”

He ignores her, grabbing them by the arms and dragging them inside his oceanic and anime-themed room. “Come on, hurry up. Inside, both of you.”

“D’ah...whoa, hold on! Hey, what the—?! Leggo of my arm, Levi!”

“Welcome, my dear brother the Lord of Fools...Welcome, Henry. Welcome to Castle Leviathan.”

“Wha? Which one of us is supposed to be the Lord of Fools and which one’s Henry?”

Salomé turns to Mammon, eyebrows raised. “Fuck’s sake, Mammon, who do you think? Don’t tell me you forgot the marathon already...” 

“Stay in character! This needs to feel like we’re really in the world of The Tale of the Seven Lords. Mammon, you’re the Lord of Fools, and Salomé is Henry. I mean, duh, that should be obvious. Get a clue!”

Mammon throws his hands up. “Hey, don’t blame me! I ain’t got a clue about what’s even goin’ on here! Try putting yourself in my shoes, suddenly bein’ thrust into your weird fantasy world—”

“Whatever. Just sit down here, Mammon. And Salomé, you sit right there.” The human complies, settling down cross-legged on the floor in between the two demons. Mammon, on the other hand, is clearly warier.

“Wait, what’s up with this magic seal thing you’ve got on the floor here...? C’mon, this is gettin’ creepy! You could at least tell us what it is you expect us to do here!”

“Mammon, you made a pact with Salomé, right?”

“Not that I had a choice, but yeah.”

“RIght. And I made a pact too. You know what this means, right? This is just like the situation between the two lords and the hero Henry in The Tale of the Seven Lords!” Leviathan’s got that _look_ in his eyes again, similar to the one she’d seen when they’d first met.

“Oh fuck, he’s gonna—” And just like that, he’s spouting off about that particular subplot, talking a mile a minute. 

_Shit, he should go into opera at this rate,_ Salomé muses. _He doesn’t even need to breathe!_

“—AAAAAH! This is takin’ too long! Just give us the short version, Levi!”

Levi bristles at his older brother’s interruption, but sighs and continues. “What I’m trying to say is that you, Salomé, and I are about to swear an oath to be allies.”

“Wha? **Allies?”**

“That’s right. ALLIES, Mammon. Do you have too much wax in your ears or something?”

“What kind of oath, exactly?” Salomé asks, leaning forward slightly, amusement evident on her face. “And why does it involve some sort of magic?”

Leviathan grins, apparently pleased with her curiosity, and turns around to grab something from inside his bathtub-bed, pulling out the biggest sword Salomé’s ever seen. Mammon starts screaming, but all the green-eyed woman can do is start laughing incredulously.

“W-w-wait just a second! I sorta get what you’re tryin’ to do now, but what exactly are ya planning on usin’ that sword there for, huh?!”

“Are you dense? That’s what we use when we make our oath, obviously.”

“Hey, whoa...slow down! That’s a real sword, ain’t it?! Where’d ya even get somethin’ like that, anyway?!”

“Off Akuzon, of course. Where else? I’m a premium member. I can get anything I need shipped to me by noon the next day at the touch of a button. Everything from luxury sports cars to black gecko food. And since I’m a premium member, the shipping is free! I bought this sword on an Akuzon limited time thunder deal. It’s the Lord of Shadow’s greatsword. Check it out...take a look at how detailed the crest is on it. I mean, THAT’S craftsmanship!”

“I don’t know nothin’ about any of that, Levi, and I don’t care!”

“Wha? You’re saying that you’ve never heard of an Akuzon thunder deal? LMAO, that’s hilarious! Like, have you been hiding under a rock for the last decade, Mammon? Pfft, what a noob! Looool”

“That’s NOT what I meant, LeviAAAH! Quit wavin’ that thing around! D’AAH, don’t point it at me! Hey! Salomé! Stop laughin’, this ain’t funny! Say somethin’ to Levi!”

“Ahahaha...oh, shit...” She wipes at her eyes. “...I must say, I’m curious. Mammon, sit where he told you to. Let’s go for it.”

“WHAT?! Are you outta your mind?! Can’t ya tell this ceremony of his is gonna be dangerous?!”

“Oh shush. Live a little! Don’t you know it’s always more fun to just go with it?”

Leviathan nods eagerly. “That’s the spirit, Salomé. You know Mammon, you really should learn when to give up. This is happening.”

“Hold on! I’m serious here! I’m the NORMAL one here! It’s just you two that’re bein’ all strange!”

“Right, whatever Mammon. Now come on, let’s get this show on the road.” He clears his throat, and then speaks in a voice booming enough to make Salomé flinch in surprise. “UPON THIS HOLY BLADE SHALT THEE SWEAR AN OATH OF BLOOD...”

Mammon shrieks and Salomé has to clap a hand over her mouth to avoid howling with laughter.

* * *

“Okay, done! The three of us are now allies, bound by a blood oath.”

“S-seriously, I thought I was gonna end up dead for sure there for a second. You just took 5,000 years off my life, Levi...” Mammon whines.

“That was...” Salomé leans back against one of the small glass tables behind her, letting out a huff of laughter. “... _really_ intense. I mean—and I’m not proud of this—I’ve done a blood oath before, but it wasn’t as...intricate as this was.”

“What?! You’ve done this kind of crazy stuff before?! Why?!”

“Oh, yeah. With my friend Oz, when we were like...twelve? Yeah, before California, so twelve. Really dumb decision on our part. Humans can catch diseases from each other through exchanging blood like that.”

“Is he also your ally?” Levi asks.

“Well...yes, though I wouldn’t say it so formally. He’s my best friend, because, see, we were born with the same, er...”

 _“Condition,”_ her Stand supplies from the back of her mind. “...let’s just call it **a rare condition,** y’know? So we bonded over that, and um, let’s say after a certain _incident—_ ” She winces at the memory “—we just decided to ‘officially’ seal it. Because we thought we were _so cool, so edgy_. You know, the standard friends for life, get married at 40 in the unlikely situation we’re both still single by then, blah blah blah...” She waves her hands around dismissively. “But we just cut ourselves on our fingers with his shitty little Swiss Army Knife and pressed them together. None of this...magic and swords. But this was a lot more fun! Thanks for putting the effort in, Levi.”

“Hold on, did you just say _get married_ —" Levi cuts off Mammon’s question by moving to sit directly in front of her.

“Salomé, since we’re allies now, we’ll need to go ahead and exchange numbers.”

 _Awww, that’s cute...wait, hey...._ “Uh, Levi...”

“But don’t get the wrong idea here. It’s not like I want to be FRIENDS or anything. But now that we’re sworn allies, it’d be weird if we weren’t able to call each other. Totally strange. That’s the only reason I’m doing this.”

“Wait, Levi!” She holds up her D.D.D., open to their text conversation from her second night in the Devildom when he’d told her to come to the kitchen to trap Mammon. “You already _have_ my number, remember?”

The silence hangs in the air for what feels like an eternity, with both demons looking dumbstruck. Then, Levi’s face grows so red that she fears he may just faint dead away right there, and Mammon starts positively _screaming_ with laughter.

“ANYWAY! Salomé!...I guess it’d be okay to give me a call when you have a free moment. I mean, I wouldn’t mind or anything. I dunno if I’ll respond...but I mean, I might...if I happen to have absolutely nothing better to do at the time, that is. But you know, don’t get your hopes up. I’m a pretty busy guy. And there are a lot of games on my pile of shame I still have to play.”

“Okaaaaay, whatever you say...” she hums. “If any of them are multiplayer, you can call me anytime as well, I’ll pull up.”

Mammon finally stops wheezing, turning to face Levi. “Ahaha...what am I gonna do with you, little brother? You were just dyin’ to exchange numbers with Salomé, huh? Ya wanted to do it so bad you forgot you even had it in the first place. You can be sorta cute sometimes, ya know that?”

 _“How hypocritical,”_ her Stand quips, and Salomé bites back a snort. _If he ever finds out that we can determine true feelings, he’s going to lose his mind._

 _“Bold of you to say that you even need to use me to figure out that he puts on an act,”_ her friend replies.

“...You don’t actually **have** any other friends you can exchange numbers with, do ya?”

“Well, at least people haven’t blacklisted **me** for sending messages begging for money,” Leviathan fires back, and Salomé lets out a low whistle and an "Oooooh.". _Get him, sunrise-eyes!_ “Unlike a certain demon I know who goes by the name of **Mammon.** ”

“I take back what I said! There ain’t nothin’ cute about you, Levi!”

Salomé doesn’t think she's laughed this much in months.

* * *

Abyzou lets out a laugh at the message she receives, and Salomé looks up from her own D.D.D. with an eyebrow raised.

“Who are you texting?”

“Diaval.”

“Ooh, new guy?”

“Ugh, gross. No, we’re just friends. He’s one of the students who was sent up to the Human World for the year.” She turns her phone around to show a picture to the smoky-haired human sitting next to her. “See, look...this is him, in some forest near the magic school he’s going to—”

Salomé sits up suddenly, taking the D.D.D. from her with wide eyes. “—hold up, there’s a whole _magic school_ in the fucking _Basque Country?!”_

“Wh—I mean, _I guess?_ I don’t know what it’s called. How did you recognize that just from the trees...?”

“That’s the Otzarreta Forest, I visited it once. I’d recognize those weird trees anywhere, they don’t grow anywhere else in the world...huh.” She shrugs and hands Abyzou back her phone. “Who else was sent with him?”

“What, none of the brothers told you? They sent Belphegor. That’s Beel’s twin, the seventh brother.”

For the briefest of seconds, the human looks like she’s been struck by lightning. “...no, no one told me,” she murmurs, looking around the classroom, thoughtful gaze settling on Beel, sitting several rows ahead on the other side of the room and eating a sandwich, oblivious to the world. Abyzou frowns at that. “Huh, weird. The twins are practically inseparable...” the demon trails off, shrugs, returning back to her text conversation.

**Abyzou:**

>good to see you’re having fun

>i’m sitting with the no-magic human rn, actually

**Diaval:**

>send pic?

“Smile, ‘lomé,” Abyzou hums as she opens the camera, and the human grins up at the camera and makes a peace sign for the selfie, all traces of surprise about Belphegor gone from her face.

**Abyzou:**

>selfie.jpg

>this is salomé she's cool and we’re waiting for the history prof to pull up

**Diaval:**

>i am looking 

>Respectfully

**Abyzou:**

>??? boy what

**Diaval:**

>human meme, ask her to explain it

>also does she have devilgram

**Abyzou:**

>mf you’re surrounded by humans over there why u gotta have this one too

>also how’s belphegor doing up there w/ u btw

**Diaval:**

>...damn alright all i asked was if she had a devilgram where did THAT come from

>wait, belphegor?

>mf he’s not here, paimon came up with me instead, look

A picture accompanies the message, this time featuring Diaval and Paimon, both of them hugging the thick branches of those strangely shaped mossy trees and hanging upside down, grinning widely.

**Diaval:**

>he said it was rlly sudden and rlly hush hush

>is belphegor not in school or sumth?

“...okay, apparently I was wrong,” Abyzou mutters, brows furrowed. “...looks like it was Paimon who was sent to the Human World...but...” But that didn’t make sense. She was _sure_ that it had been Belphegor. That’s what everyone had said, and he hadn’t been seen anywhere in the school. Granted, he tended to be a loner and had a reputation for sleeping in...but it had been about three weeks since the school year started. And even those (like her) who didn’t interact with the student council officers often knew of what a tight leash Lucifer kept on his brothers when it came to RAD. There would be no way that the eldest would allow any of his brothers to miss _that_ much school. "...it had to be him, that's what people said..."

“Who knows,” Salomé murmurs, putting her D.D.D. away as the professor enters the room. The demon at her side mirrors her actions but groans internally. _This is gonna bother me all day._ Five minutes into the lesson, already bored, she lets her eyes wander to the human next to her. The freckled exchange student appears to be the very image of scholarly diligence, taking her notes, and keeping her eyes trained on the professor. Then, suddenly, she winces as if in great pain, and Abyzou notes with a start that _tears_ have welled up in her eyes. Before she can even say anything, the pained expression vanishes and the human closes her eyes, blinking the tears away. Had Abyzou been looking anywhere else, she would have completely missed it. Salomé’s now clear eyes move from the professor to stare at Beelzebub with an extremely intense sense of pity that the green-haired demon’s never seen before, and she can practically see the wheels turning in her head.

Like she _knows_ something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the oath scene with levi is from hard mode lesson 4-13 and 4-15, and we do give levi our number in that scene, which like...hello, massive plot hole??? if he didn't have our number, how was he able to text us to come down to the kitchen in normal 2-6 and then call us to come to the planetarium in normal 4-4, before we got the pact???? it was a rlly cute scene anyway tho lmao


	6. For Reasons Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simeon has an invitation. Mammon has his own words used against him. Salomé has a new room to stay in. Beel has a nightmare. Belphegor has received a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WEW before this begins i wanna thank you lovely ppl for 60+ kudos & all of the subscriptions/bookmarks/nice comments! i deadass started out writing this as a joke, i never expected ppl to actually fw it, but i'm very honored that you do and it keeps me going! thanks so much again!
> 
> chapter title is from the killers song of the same name

“...so you were born with it?”

A bit of an indignant pout crosses Salomé’s face. “ _Her,_ please, Luke. She’s sentient. But yeah. She’s been with me ever since I can remember, my very first friend, and it feels weird to call my first friend an _it_.” A slight chuckle. “And don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, she’s gotten me and my friends out of a whole lot of messes. But it was pretty hard for a bit when I was younger...you know, with me being the only kid able to see her and all.”

 _“And to think, now you embrace my invisibility,”_ the Stand hums from where she’s floating behind Simeon, resting her arms on the angel’s shoulders, grinning away as always. “Because it’s _convenient_ and I’ve known for a while now that you’re not just a delusion,” Salomé sighs. “And for the love of—get off of Simeon!”

“I don’t mind,” the dark-haired angel hums, and the human covers her face with her hands and groans. _Damn manifestation of the inner will._ “She smells like a flower garden. And you say the primary ability is...to feel another’s emotions and calm them?” 

_“For the first two to five minutes. Things start getting dangerous as the time goes on, but that is...shall we say, more of a_ **_last resort_ ** _.”_

“Do any of the demons know?”

 _“Mammon has some idea that Salomé has_ ** _something,_ ** _but he’s been given an order of silence to prevent any questioning or telling anyone else. Those girls she hangs around—Tunrida, Abyzou, and Meridiana—know that there’s_ ** _something_** _as well, but they just call me a ‘gift’, and say no further. Likely due to the fact that I threw Abyzou’s poor excuse of an old boyfriend out of a window, which bought their silence. No one else seems to have any idea, or at least they haven’t said anything. Most of them think what I do for defense is just a very strong curse.”_

Luke nods vigorously. “Good! You have to keep her hidden, Salomé, especially since you don’t have any magic! You’re really lucky to have her in a place like this. Who knows what Lucifer or Lord Diavolo would do if they knew!”

The Stand then reaches out and down from Simeon’s shoulders, patting Luke on the head. _“...how endearing. Thank you for the concern.”_ Luke’s face goes red, and he starts sputtering. 

“It’s not like they could take her away from me,” the human sighs. “I’d quite literally die if they found a way to do that, and that would throw one hell of a wrench into the program, don’t you think?...though I will say, it _is_ really funny to catch the demons off-guard with her. But I’ll keep being careful.”

“Does she have a name?” Simeon asks, and Salomé opens her mouth to give it, only for her Stand to suddenly jerk up and look to the left towards the classroom door, and in her mind’s eye she sees Beelzebub and Mammon approaching. _“We have company,”_ the Stand replies before her master commands her to fade.

The human is vaguely aware that Mammon is whining about Beelzebub eating some offering he’d received from a witch in their previous class, but she’s not really paying attention. _Beelzebub._ Three class periods previously, after Abyzou had inadvertently informed her that the demon in the attic was the seventh brother and Beel’s twin, Salomé had the oh-so-bright idea of sending out her Stand in the middle of class to read his emotions, and had not been prepared **at all.** _Those were_ ** _his_ **_tears. That was his nostalgia, his hunger, his...missing someone. I almost cried someone else’s tears. That’s_ ** _never_ **_happened. A whole new level of intensity._

“—oi, Salomé! Don’t just stand there watching, say something to Beel!”

She raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me? Since when was _I_ the household moderator, Mammon?”

Mammon looks like she’d just slapped him. “HEY! How could you be so cold? I mean, this is my food we’re talking about! I think I’m gonna cry here!” The human merely shrugs, allowing herself to fade into the background of the conversation as Luke and Simeon take over.

“ _Considering their identical eyes, the demon in the attic is Belphegor,”_ her Stand comments from the recesses of her mind. “ _Though it would be extremely unwise for you to go up those stairs to meet with him, even with him imprisoned. If Lucifer trusted him enough to not try anything violent even while he can’t reach you, he wouldn’t have banned you from going up there—and presumably banned his brothers as well.”_

_And the lie is that he was sent up to the human world, so that’s what they all believe. But just asking Diaval is enough to prove that he’s not there: there’s photos and everything. And I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that none of the brothers have been contacted by Belphegor either, so Lucifer must have done something to his phone, or taken it away...he must be going mad in isolation...maybe I’ll ask Abyzou to send me that picture._

_“Lucifer would have your head if you showed Beelzebub, even if you play it off as an accident.”_

“—actually planning to go on a camping trip soon, you see. We thought it would be a good way to have fun and get to know each other better. I’d like to **invite** you all. We’d love it if you could join us.”

“Wha? Ugh, so it’s another one of your lame ideas. You always do this...listen, for starters, camping’s a total drag—”

« Mammon, surveille tes manières, » Salomé scolds the white-haired demon, slapping him lightly on the arm. _Blagh, he’s got me quoting my grandmother._ “I’d be **happy** to go, Simeon. Just say when. It would be my first time going without any snow on the ground...”

Beel nods in agreement. “Camping means cooking out...ooh, and roasting marshmallows... **I’m in.”**

“Ugh, **two** fans of camping. Hanging around people like you is a drag.”

“Hm? I’m sorry? Did anybody ask what you think of _people like us_? No, I don’t believe so...” Salomé drawls, flexing her fingers, very pointedly watching some small vines appear around her hand before vanishing once again. Luke starts giggling, to which Mammon starts going off again. Simeon leaves to take a call, and Salomé’s gaze returns to the orange-haired demon.

_...poor, poor Beel. If only he knew._

* * *

**Mammon:**

>I’m feeling a little hungry.  
  


**Salomé:**

>It’s like, 11 PM.

>...do you want me to cook for you or something?

>b/c I don’t think you guys have anything I know how  
to cook properly, that's not like, cup noodles.

**Mammon:**

>What? No.

>Come meet me in the kitchen. Now.

**Salomé:**

>...you’re a whole demon, why are you scared

to go alone in the dark?

>plus, I’m not hungry. I’ve already showered + chilling in bed.

>Oh, is this because of what I think it is?

**Mammon:**

>HEY!

>Just so we’re clear, it’s not like I’m afraid Lucifer

might catch me if I go alone. That’s not what this is

about.

**Salomé:**

>Yeah okay lmao

**Mammon:**

>Seriously, that’s not what this is about! For real,

it isn’t!

**Salomé:**

>laughingdemoji.png

>Give me a minute, I’ll be there.

She appears in the kitchen doorway about two minutes later, arms folded over her chest. “Took ya long enough,” Mammon snaps. “Listen, when I call you, you need to come lickety-split. I’m hungry, and I’m in a bad mood to boot. Ya shoulda known that.”

“Ah yes, let me drop everything I’m doing and come to serve _mon roi Mammon_ whenever he damn well feels like it, because I’m a fucking mind reader and we have a telepathic bond that he can yank on at all hours of the day or night and it’s not like I’ll be doing anything else **at all,** ” she fires back, languid voice dripping with sarcasm (but no real venom), twirling a bit of hair between her fingers. “What _is_ it with you people and wanting me to magically teleport to wherever you are the _exact_ second you ask to see me? First Levi, now you. Magic is Solomon’s thing, not mine.”

The words on his tongue just die there, and he stares at her for a few moments before muttering a “Well, whatever. Let’s have a look inside the fridge and see what we can find.”

“I’m not hungry, though,” Salomé sighs, but she moves across the kitchen to join him, leaning against the open fridge door at his side. He’s rummaging through it for several moments and grows increasingly frustrated with what he finds. “Ugh, there’s nothin’ good in here...” Then, something catches his eye, light yellow and in a plastic container.

“Well...what do we have here? Looks like a custard.” There’s a note on it: _Property of Beelzebub. You eat it, you die._ He rolls his eyes. Beel does get incredibly angry when his food is eaten, there’s no doubt there, but Mammon knows the note to (mostly) be an exaggeration. It does look good, but he knows enough that it won’t do any good to have all the blame fall on him. “Here, eat this,” Mammon says, handing the cup over to Salomé. “I need an accomplice. I don’t wanna be the only one in trouble.”

To his surprise, his human companion makes a face at it and tosses it back at him. “Eugh, no, thank you. Aside from the facts that I quite like living and I respect Beel, I don’t like custard by itself. It’s got to be in a pastry to be any good. Just by itself is too much. There needs to be a balance, you know?”

“Oh come on! You know, Salomé, you’ve gotta be seriously brave to eat this custard here. **If you can do that, I’ll admit that you’ve got guts.”**

“...Mammon, I don’t know how you truly perceive me, but I’ll tell you right now that I’m not insecure like that.” A shrug. “If you think me a coward, think me a coward. What will matter at the end of the day is that _I_ don’t have Beel on my back for eating his stuff, murder threat serious or not. Also, why would we get in trouble for just being in here?”

He closes the fridge and rises to his full height, bad mood exacerbated, tossing the cup back at her once more. “If you’re gonna keep stallin’ like that, I’ll force ya. Do it. That’s an order.”

Her eyebrows skyrocket, an incredulous laugh leaving her mouth. “Excuse me? _An order?_ You’ll _force_ me? You’re _forgetting_ something here, my friend.”

 **“I’m orderin’ ya to eat the damn custard, Salo—”** In a millisecond, he faintly smells flowers. _...oh, come on!_ Just like several weeks ago, an invisible force shoves him away from Salomé, this time going around his ankles and making him trip backward, landing with his back on the table, and before he can even try to right himself, Salomé’s freckled hands slam down onto the wooden table, resting close to the sides of his head, her face appearing dizzyingly close his own, leaning over him. He can practically feel his brain short-circuit.

“...okay, considering what happened the _last_ time you tried to catch me off-guard, I don’t know how the fuck you didn’t see this coming...c’mon, Mammon, something tells me you aren’t as dumb as everyone says you are, but _really_...” she grins lazily, tilting her head to the left, and he’s feeling...dazed. “What was that about _an order?_ ” She clicks her tongue against her teeth, and he feels the things wrapped around his ankles grow tighter when he tries to move against it. “No good, that’s no good at all. I wouldn’t expect such _cowardice_ from such a **powerful** demon, trying to _force_ a _lowly_ human to eat a custard because you can’t handle the heat, but it seems you just love to prove me wrong. I came to you here as a _favor,_ okay? Get that straight. But I’ll eat something else since you want an accomplice so bad." She brings up her right hand, the one with his pact mark, and drags her index finger up from the base of his throat to his chin. “...close your mouth now, you’ll catch flies...hey, why don't _you_ prove to me that _you're_ not the coward, trying to get me in trouble all by myself? I’m quite offended, you know, but I'll be nice: just eat half. Just half. **If you can do that, I'll admit that you've got guts,** and I'll even let you give me an order _as well_ _as_ eat the other half. That way, you don’t get all the blame. How does that sound?"

For some reason (he’s gotta be coming down with a fever or _something)_ , he finds himself nodding, and Salomé hums, evidently pleased with the exchange, the thing wrapped around his ankles vanishing as she gets up and off of him, going to the fridge and plucking an apple from it as if absolutely nothing's happened. He ends up staring at the ceiling for half a minute in a surprisingly sleepy daze before getting off the table and going to get a spoon, muttering profanities under his breath all the while. _I’ve got guts, stupid human. Just you watch._

Just _what_ is that thing she has? It’s not magic, she even said so herself so he can definitely rule it out. And it doesn’t cause any physical pain (that he’s aware of), just restrains and calms people down. He remembers back in her room, the night after the quiz, when he felt some sort of ghostly hand touching his head. _Does she have a ghost? A ghost that has hands and...some kind of ropes, so it’s..._ _some sorta..._ ** _guardian spirit_.** _..that she uses to fight...? Who the hell uses a_ ** _ghost_ **_to fight? And why can’t I break the ropes?_ No, wait. Something is tapping at the back of his mind, an inkling of a memory...he’s heard of this concept before. A very, very long time ago, there was someone, someone that he’d heard about in a mostly-forgotten conversation... _whatever._

“Alright, look!” He shouts, slamming the half-empty cup of custard and spoon down on the wooden table. “I did it! Say it! Admit I’ve got guts!”

She gives him a cursory glance, nodding, swallowing the chunk of apple in her mouth. “You did it indeed. I will say it: you are not a coward. You have guts.”

He puffs his chest with pride. “Okay, now—” Then, a large hand falls on his shoulder, and he goes _stiff._ He knows that hand.

“Evening, Beel,” Salomé calls out, taking another bite of her apple.

Mammon wants to disappear right then and there, but all he can do is laugh nervously. “Wh-what’s the big idea sneakin’ up on me like that? How long have you been there...?”

“...did you eat my custard?”

“Um—”

« ...imbécile, » the human murmurs from across the kitchen with the absolute biggest shit-eating grin on her face that Mammon’s ever seen. He realizes it then: she parroted his own words back at him. **He’s been played.** _If only she’d eaten the damn custard when he’d told her to!_

“Did you actually eat my CUSTARD?! ANSWER ME, MAMMON!”

“N-now wait a second, Beel! Lemme explain! There’s a good reason for—”

“...you did, didn’t you?”

“Just half of it, actually,” Salomé cuts in, in some half-assed attempt to placate the orange-haired brother, pointing to the half-empty cup on the table. Mammon wants to turn invisible.

In a flash, his brother’s in his true form. **“YOU...ATE...MY...CUSTARD! HALF ISN’T ENOUGH!”**

“Hey, hey, don’t throw that, you’ll destroy the wall! Beel, Beel! **_Stand down, Beel!”_** Salomé cries out, and Mammon goes still. He doesn’t think Beel even heard her, because he’s currently in the middle of throwing the table through the wall leading into her room, but those words are rattling around in his head as Salomé grabs his hand and drags him out of the kitchen door to avoid his younger brother’s wrath. And like the striking of a match, that sudden floral scent which fills his nostrils for a fraction of a second and then seems to _move_ back towards where Beel is rampaging sends his mind reeling.

_Stand down, Beel. Stand down, Beel. Stand...down...Beel..._

And suddenly Lucifer and his other brothers are there, yelling, and any idea he may have had is quickly forgotten. Salomé, for her part, is pinching the bridge of her nose with one hand and clutching at her stomach with the other, a grimace across her face, as if she’s very hungry to the point of a headache.

* * *

All things considered, it could’ve been worse. The kitchen is destroyed and now one of Salomé’s room’s walls is missing, but her things in her room are still intact and nobody’s died. Now they’re receiving the tail end of a lecture from Lucifer, and Salomé’s ears prick up in surprise when she hears where he’ll be placing her until the wall is fixed: Beel’s room.

“WHA?! Now just a second. Why’re ya puttin’ Salomé in **his** room? I mean, there’s enough space in **my** room, isn’t there?!” Mammon complains, and all the human can do is look over at him and cringe.

_Ah. I think I slammed him down on the table too hard. I mean, it was funny to watch his face in the moment, but shit. Maybe he is a masochist._

“This is a trivial matter, Mammon,” Lucifer sighs. “Don’t get jealous over it. It shows immaturity.”

“Wha... **jealous?!** Wh-wh-who’re you callin’ jealous?! As if I’d be jealous...pff!”

_For a demon who’s been around for several thousand years, one would think you’d be better at lying._

“Anyway, Salomé has a pact with **me!”**

_...and that means I should go sleep in your room?_

“Your pact is irrelevant. Also, if I’m not mistaken, there’s an extra bed in Beel’s room.”

“Gr...”

“Do you understand, Beel? This **isn’t** a request.”

The orange-haired demon nods eventually. “...yeah. I understand.”

Mammon pouts. “Ugh. This sucks...”

Salomé’s mind begins to wander after that, as the three file out of Lucifer’s room. Being with a roommate...she’d lived with Beatrice for a little over half their relationship. It had been surprisingly easy to keep her Stand hidden from the other, though several times she’d come _dangerously_ close to seeing some of the laundry somehow folding itself (Oz had laughed when she’d told him after the first time, to which she’d fired back that it didn’t make sense to have what was essentially a personal poltergeist and not utilize the gift in as many ways as possible). Granted, they’d also had a whole multiple-room apartment, so it made hiding any paranormal activity much easier; and considering how large the House of Lamentation was, it almost didn’t matter that she had six (technically _seven,_ but she doesn’t want to get into that) housemates. But now with Beel, they’d be in one room. Big enough to have two beds, sure, but still one room. It seems as though she’d have to hold back on calling her out when Beel was present for anything but an emergency.

“So, this is my room. There are two beds,” Beel says as he opens the door, snapping Salomé out of her thoughts. The room is huge, divided in half: one side is warm-toned, red and orange, and the other is cool-toned with shades of purple. Both have golden art on the walls, the sun for the orange side and stars and the moon for the purple, and the pictures hanging from said walls reflect it. She likes the strange, dark gray rain cloud chandelier, also matching the split in colors and with umbrellas to top off the look. 

“Ah...the orange side is yours, right? So, I can take the purple...” He cuts her off, shaking his head. “The orange one on the left is mine, but you can use it. Don’t use the bed on the right. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

 _Oh._ Well, that feels like a bit of an unintentional gut punch, and she has a growing sense as to why. “Are you sure? This is your room, after all. I can just take the couch.” He shakes his head once more, and Salomé, while grateful, is struck with the urge to push it for confirmation. “Thank you...may I ask why I can’t use that one?” she asks, sitting on the edge of the rectangular bench (table? she’s not quite sure) at the foot of his bed.

He’s silent for a while, expression hard, before softening into the same sad look she’d seen him wear on her first night in the kitchen as he sinks down into the couch across from the bed. “...the bed on the right is my twin brother’s. His name is Belphegor. He’s in the human world right now as an exchange student.”

 _Ooooooh no._ **_Oooooooh no._ ** _How is it so much worse hearing the lie from him than knowing it from what I already gathered?_ She can feel her D.D.D. practically _burning_ in the pocket of her shorts, knowing that she could easily open it up, go to Diaval’s Devilgram profile (apparently he’d found her through Abyzou’s account), and pull up the picture that he had also sent her green-haired friend, the truth of exactly _who_ was sent to the human world shown clutching onto a mossy beech tree.

**_“Don’t.”_ **

_I’m not going to!_

“Oh, he’s in the human world?” _I...could’ve played that off better._

He smiles, nodding. “Yeah. You came from the human world to the Devildom, and Belphie was sent from the Devildom to the human world. He went there with another demon by the name of Diaval...”

_...no the fuck he didn’t...oh, you poor man._

_“A pitiful situation. If he knew his brother was right above his head all this time, it would break his heart.”_

“...Belphie had a falling out with Lucifer, so he was chosen to be an exchange student. Belphie didn’t want to go, but he was forced. So **don’t** mention his name in front of Lucifer.”

_That must be why he’s in the attic. But it sounds a little extreme for a time-out, even for a demon like Lucifer...why wouldn’t he want to go, though? And what could the fight have been about, so bad that he was locked upstairs in his own house under the pretense of being in a totally different dimensional plane?_

“...do you want to talk about him? I’d be more than happy to listen,” she asks as gently as possible.

He’s silent for a moment, and she gets the distinct sense that if she were to attempt to read his emotions right then, she’d start openly weeping. “Even though we’re twins,” he says eventually, “All that means is that our father made us at the same time. It’s not like we’re alike in any way.” _You have the same eyes, though._ “Still, Belphie and I always got along...” His face turns cautious. “We used to have a little sister, Lilith.”

And then there’s **_something._ **Salomé doesn’t know what it is about that name, but small vines instantaneously appear on both her hands, curling around her fingers. The hairs on the back of her neck are standing up, that gentle electric current she’d felt when she was asked to go to the attic reverberating through her body.

She’s not exactly sure _what_ to make of the feeling, only that it’s uncomfortable.

“...so the three of us were always together: me, Belphie, and Lilith...but that was a long time ago now.”

“Do you want to talk about her, too?”

He’s silent for a few seconds, shaking his head. “I don’t feel about talking about her right now,” he says, and Salomé nods understandingly: _used to, he said. She must be dead. I have no right to demand verbal insight into his grief._ “When Belphie returns to the Devildom, you’ll go back to the human world. Which means you two are never gonna meet each other.”

 _Et quel dommage_ _de ne pas savoir...wait...okay, so, best case scenario: I live out the year. I go home. What_ ** _exactly_** _does Lucifer do with Belphie once the year is over? How will he make sure he doesn’t tell his brothers the truth? I’m pretty sure Beel would lose his shit if he found out that he was here the whole time. Cast a spell to mute him, or alter his memories...?_ **_Oh God. Oh God that’s so fucked up._ ** _But I wouldn’t put it past him. If his anger is severe enough to hold his youngest brother prisoner, who’s to say he’s not above covering his tracks by even worse means?_

“...what?” Beel suddenly says, and she realizes she’s been staring. “Why’re you staring at me like that?” _Because you have no idea—your missing your brother is so severe that you almost made me cry_ ** _your tears,_** _yet you have no idea that he’s been in your house all this time! It’s all so_ ** _fucked!_** _And I can’t—I can’t even tell you, because I know you’d go to Lucifer raising hell and he’ll ask how you knew and then_ ** _I’m dead!_** _Hell, if he’s petty enough to hold his brother prisoner in his own house, he might even hurt Abyzou or Diaval for inadvertently telling me Belphegor was never in the human world at all!_ “I told you, didn’t I? Belphie and I are twins, but we don’t look alike.” _Oh,_ ** _that’s_** _what you think this is about._ She relaxes, finally allowing the small vines that have appeared around her fingers to disappear. 

“What does Belphie look like, then?”

He pauses for a moment. “You know the portrait room, right? I’m pretty sure there’s a picture of him there. Come on.” She gets up from the small table as he rises from the couch, and they make their way to the portrait room in silence. The house is quiet once more, she supposes that everyone’s gone to sleep after the kitchen was wrecked. _Not like there’s much to do except wait until it’s fixed..._

When they come to the portrait room, Beel leads her to one in particular, and it’s just as suspected. “See? Right there, that’s Belphie.”

“You’ve got the same eyes, even if nothing else is identical. Like the end of the sunset,” she murmurs after a moment of studying it. Beel looks at her for a moment, evidently somewhat surprised, and then smiles. It’s a tiny one, but it’s something.

“...we should go, we’ve got class tomorrow,” he says eventually, looking mournfully at the portrait once more. She nods and follows him out of the room, looking back once more at the portrait before closing the door behind them. _There’s something missing,_ Salomé thinks. _So, Belphegor is in the attic, Lucifer put him there, I’m literally the only person outside of them who knows this much of the truth, and the lie keeping people from questioning his location is that Belphegor is in the human world. The reason, though, is the one piece that’s missing. Beel says it was a “falling out”, but that’s way too vague...it had to be_ ** _huge._ ** _And Lucifer did say that going up there was_ ** _dangerous._ ** _Of course, he could have just said it as a deterrent, but I know I’d_ ** _definitely_** _be in danger from Lucifer should he find out I were to go up there. Which, I’m not._

They make it back to Beel’s room quietly enough, her settling into that large orange bed and him settling onto the couch with a spare blanket (there’s a pang of guilt deep in her stomach). He turns the lights off and they say goodnight, and Salomé wonders how he’s been sleeping, alone in this giant room. It must have felt so much bigger to him, alone in a room for two.

She sleeps dreamlessly.

* * *

Salomé wakes up to darkness (something which she’s gotten used to), and the sound of someone groaning in their sleep (something which she’s not used to at all).

She sits up, bleary-eyed, turning on her D.D.D.—an hour before they have to be up. She squints in the dark, and sees Beel, lying there on the sofa. He’s not moving, but his face is contorted as if he’s in great pain. _A nightmare._..without a second thought, she crawls out from under the blanket and makes her way back to the rectangular bench at the foot of his bed, where she’d sat earlier, holding her hands palm up in her lap. She inhales and exhales deeply before calling out one long vine to emerge from her open left palm and make its way across the empty space before eventually coming to wrap around Beel’s head, giving him a ghostly crown of poppies and nightshade.

She’s done this before, with friends at sleepovers, ex-lovers, even the occasional stranger on public transport. She knows her Stand’s power is not permanent, but apparently, it works well even for bad dreams. _Calme-toi._

What has _not_ happened before, and what frankly, she really should have expected considering what had happened in class with Abyzou, was for tears to immediately start streaming down her face, practically like a waterfall. There’s the urge to cry out, to just **_wail_** with anguish and fear and grief, but she’s still aware enough to know if she does that the jig is up, so all she does is clamp her right hand over her mouth and nose, trying to stifle the sobs. All she’s tasting is salt, her white-knuckled right hand becoming sullied with her snot and tears, her eyes squeezed shut because she’s barely able to see through all of her— _his! his!_ —tears and all she can think is _Beel, Beel, what are you dreaming? What have you seen? How do you hide all of this? If I didn’t have this, I never would have guessed. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...it hurts. It hurts. What did you go through?_ ** _Who hurt you? Who put you through this?_**

It’s a strange thing, to cry someone else’s tears for them. Salomé’s not much of a crier, never really has been. She can count on one hand the number of times she’s cried in the past year, even if she’s counting...whatever this experience is, reading Beel in class, and even thinking about the uncertain fate of Beatrice on her first day in the council room. But this...she’s crying just _so_ much. _Is it because he’s lived for so long? Who hurt you, Beel? What are you living with?_

Two minutes is beginning to feel like two years when she finally, _finally_ feels the calm her Stand produces taking precedence in Beel’s being. She waits for several more moments for it to become the primary emotion before releasing him and practically _flying_ off the bench and out the door. She doesn’t even bother running down the stairs, instead just summoning a vine from her wrist for her to grip, commanding it to wrap around one of the balusters of the staircase and throwing herself feet first over the railing, landing on the first floor in a crouch with a soft thud before standing up on shaky legs and running in the direction of her room.

Lucifer said she couldn’t use her room anymore, not until the wall and kitchen were repaired. Well, he’s more than likely asleep now, and quite frankly she’s too shaken to give a shit whether or not he catches her. Throwing open the door, she makes a beeline for the bathroom and then slams the bathroom door behind her. She stares at herself in the mirror: red-eyed, a face streaked with tears and snot, and bedhead on top of all that. Her Stand materializes at her back instantly, and Salomé just falls to her knees. (For the first time in four years, she finds herself craving a smoke break. If there was ever a stressful time to need one, now was it.)

« ...merde, » she gasps. « C’était l’enfer... »

 _“It is not your grief,”_ her Stand says, and she feels those ghostly hands on her shoulders. _“But it will be difficult to separate from it, considering the intensity. I did not believe for a moment until now such a level to be possible.”_

“But for two minutes, it _was mine. Ours,”_ she says, limply. “Do you think it was about...Belphegor? I...I know we can’t see dreams, but...”

_“...it’s likely. But it did not feel like it was him alone.”_

She looks up, staring into those pupil-less purple eyes. _My other set of eyes. My first friend. How strange it is, for my first friend to be an extension of myself._ “...Lilith?” Again, the strange electricity, and she shudders. _Discomfort._ And she can tell her Stand feels it too, judging by the way she slightly unravels and feels around the immediate area with the vines, searching for an attack that won’t come.

_“Even more likely.”_

She continues to look up listlessly. “...after...experiencing _that,_ I can’t stand by anymore. We’re going to help Beel.”

_“It still isn’t safe to go in the attic.”_

“No,” she agrees. “No...at least, not the way Lucifer would expect.”

_“This can be planned at a later time. There’s less than an hour until Beel wakes up, and he’ll wonder where you’ve gone.”_

“R...right. We’ll...do that. Fuck...what a night...wish I could smoke down here,” Salomé mutters, shakily pulling herself up and moving to the sink to wash her face and hands, commanding her Stand to dissipate. From there, she then leaves the bathroom and heads over to her closet to pull out her uniform for the day, then going back into the bathroom to change into it (even though no one’s going to go into the now destroyed kitchen and see into her room, she’s not in the mood to risk it). She then goes about her regular routine: fixing hair, light makeup, putting her textbooks and notebooks in her bag—

Wait. Notebooks.

She pauses, an idea beginning to take shape in her mind. _Whatever charm Lucifer put on the staircase to somehow magically put him there when I approached it couldn’t sense my Stand. And I can’t say I know enough about Belphegor to trust him not to hurt me if I actually successfully_ ** _physically_ **_make it up those stairs. But, after that shitshow with Beel, I don’t think I could live with myself knowing that his twin brother is suffering while he has no idea and not doing_ ** _anything_ **_at all...Beel’s been good to me, so far. I need to be good to him back._ She opens one of her notebooks to the last few pages, ripping out three of them. _And what better way to do that, by both technically not breaking any of his oldest brother’s rules_ ** _and_** _seeing what’s up with his twin? I think he’d appreciate it._

With a shaky hand, she pulls out two pens from her bag, blue and black, and starts writing on one of the papers with the black one.

... _after all, what’s the point in having what’s essentially a personal poltergeist and not utilizing the gift in as many ways as possible?_

* * *

When he wakes up, he wishes he didn’t. Once again staring up at the ceiling that he can’t break, the door he can’t shout through, these six walls he now knows like the back of his hand, the wooden floor that keeps him apart from where his brothers are going about their lives.

How many days has it been now? Over a month, to be sure. The most interesting thing that had happened in this entire time was that human— **Salomé,** Lucifer had called her—eventually finding her way to the stairs, only to be stopped by his damned oldest brother. She’d sounded upset, slightly nervous, even before Lucifer had caught her, and apparently whatever he had told her had been enough to deter her from trying again. He’s disappointed, but not surprised. Humans are cowardly, foolish creatures, though unfortunately for him, she has either enough awareness to inherently know that he’s dangerous or fear of Lucifer to stay away: why else hadn’t she returned?

(Or maybe she’d been killed already. Eviscerated, obliterated. He smiles. While it’s a nice thought, it means his already slim chances of getting out of here are less than zero.)

And then there were the _eyes._ The very next day after she’d come, for the briefest of moments, he’d felt someone staring at him from the door, practically boring holes into him: and just as soon as it appeared, it was gone. He’d chalked it up to his imagination, eventually _—_ no one was there. No one ever was.

He’s never going to get out of here, is he?

His eyes wander around, only to widen when he sees something... **new** in his room. He bolts upright in bed. _Had he seriously slept through receiving a visitor?_

Evidently shoved through the bars of his cell and now resting on the floor: a blue pen, two blank sheets of paper, and one paper that’s folded up neatly into thirds. The folded one is not completely flat, however, and Belphegor can make out words on the inside, neatly printed in black ink.

_...a letter?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> salomé: i'm not messing w/ the demon in the attic. i've seen movies. this never ends well. i'd be a clown to press any further, even though i am curious about it. it's not worth the risk.  
> salomé after reading beel's emotions and talking to him about belphie: 🤡 🎪 🤡 
> 
> \--  
> « Mammon, surveille tes manières, » = Mammon, mind your manners,  
> Et quel dommage de ne pas savoir... = And what a shame/pity not to know...  
> Calme-toi. = Calm down.  
> « ...merde, » ... « C’était l’enfer... » = "...shit," ... "It was hell..."


	7. The Gambler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ristorante Six has a terrifying curse for patrons who cancel their orders. Lucifer has denied Beel's request. Salomé has brought an angel into the House of Lamentation. Tunrida has knowledge dealing with a certain meteorite crash site in Cape York, Greenland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: cannibalism mention, electrocution mention**
> 
> let me make one thing clear: i love mammon. however, put into the situation that he put beel and mc in during hard mode 6-17 at ristorante six, i'd be throwing hands with him instantly, no questions asked. 
> 
> chapter title comes from the kenny rogers song of the same name (the johnny cash cover, tho...)

_Belphegor,_

_Hi. You don't know me, but I couldn't sit in silence after finding you locked away up here. I'm very sorry that I can't see you in person, but certain circumstances with Lucifer have prevented me from heading up to visit you in a "traditional" way._

_My name is Salomé, I’m one of the two human exchange students. Beel told me about you and showed me your portrait last night, saying that you’re currently in the human world because Lucifer and you had a fight—I’m guessing Lucifer told him that lie because he’s the one who put you up here, right? What a dick move, I’m really sorry. Beel hasn’t said it yet, but I can tell he’s really worried about how you’re doing. Are you being fed? Do you want anything? I’ll try to get it to you, as long as it can fit through the bars of your door._

_I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do this often, but I haven’t been found out so far and I have a feeling it’ll stay this way. It’s impossible to get through the bars of the door, so if you want to respond to me, you’ll have to put your note fully through the bars. I also gave you an extra paper, if you want to send a message to Beel. I think he’d be really happy to hear from you. I’ll try to get your response as soon as possible._

_—Salomé_

* * *

“I feel _ridiculously_ underdressed,” Salomé groans, eyes flitting around Ristorante Six. Beel would’ve been lying had he said the food currently being eaten by the other patrons didn’t both look and smell almost mouth-wateringly appetizing, but he can tell by a glance at the menu that there’s no way he has the money to cover what he’s going to want to eat—much less so considering he’s agreed to pay for Mammon and Salomé.

“So this is the **crazy amazing restaurant** you were telling us about? Looks crazy expensive...”

Mammon waves off his concerns. “Aw, come on! Don’t be stingy!”

“It’s not a matter of _stinginess_ if he’s going to have trouble _affording_ it,” the human seated to Beel’s right sighs, to which the orange-haired male nods. As to be expected, Mammon ignores her and grins up at the waiter.

“All right...to start us off, I’d like a bottle of this 4,000-year-old wine...the one that was cursed by an actual pharaoh. Then I’d like everything on the menu from here...” He drags his finger along half of the menu. “...down to here!”

“Mammon!” Salomé admonishes him with a gasp, and Beel feels his eyes go wide as he processes what exactly Mammon has ordered. “That’s all the most expensive stuff! Don’t be so greedy!”

His older brother snorts. “Yep, that’s me...the avatar of greed. And you’re gluttony. So I say we go hog wild and chow down! Go on, Salomé...order anything you want! Don’t hold back!”

« Mais pourquoi diable me fait ça? Ostie de colon... » the human moans with her head in her hands. Beel briefly wonders if she’s about to cry from secondhand embarrassment. He wouldn’t blame her.

“Um, **I’m** the one footing the bill here,” Beel interrupts. “Salomé, would you talk some sense into Mammon for me?”

 _“With pleasure,”_ she mumbles against her hands before taking a deep breath and removing them from her face, the pact mark on her right hand glowing. “Mammon, that’s enough! **_Shut up_ ** and quit acting like a spoiled brat!”

Mammon yelps and suddenly goes rigid in his seat. _Must be the pact’s effect,_ Beel thinks to himself. “Let’s go someplace cheaper. That way I’ll be able to eat three times as much for the same price. We’re leaving and I’m canceling your order.” His older brother tries to say something, but all that comes out is a series of _“Mmmmhh”_ s, due to the pact. _Hm. Salomé should do this all the time._

“I do apologize, sir,” the waiter replies, “But we have a policy here, you see. When a customer cancels their order, we put a curse on them...one that transforms them into ingredients to be used in our kitchen.”

Mammon’s eyes go wide and he starts trying to say something against Salomé’s order, only to fail. Beel winces as he turns to the human at his side. “Hmm...that’s not good at all. I do like to eat...but I’m not interested in having anything where Mammon is the main ingredient. What should we do?” Then, he blinks—there’s a slightly familiar scent, something floral...belladonna, and something else. Belladonna tastes good, but a glance back down at the menu tells him they don’t have it here. _Then...?_

“A moment, sir, if you please?” Salomé asks of the waiter with a practiced little smile, and when he nods and leaves, she sighs and raises her hands. “There is nothing we _can_ do besides go, you can’t afford it and the waiter’s not bluffing...” (and suddenly the scent is gone, and Beel wonders if he’s just imagining things due to his hunger) “...so, Mammon, I hate to say it, but...” She clears her throat and turns to look at him before suddenly, very softly and sweetly _singing,_ of all things _:_ _« J’irai la voir un jour...Au ciel dans la patrie... »_ She trails off and then offers an explanation with a shake of her head: “See, that’s a song for funerals. They even sang it at my mother’s.”

Mammon starts thrashing in his seat, eyes blown out even wider at the insinuation. “You have a nice voice,” Beel tells her, to which she grins and takes his hand to squeeze it in gratitude. « Aww, merci beaucoup! »

“Mammon, stop making such a commotion. This is far too nice of a place for that, you’re embarrassing me.” All three of them snap their heads up, only to see Lucifer and Lord Diavolo standing before them. Mammon tries to mumble something, and Lucifer sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Salomé, as much as it pains me to do this, would you kindly let him speak?” The human nods, and the pact mark on her hand glows once more as she clearly says **_“You may speak.”_ **

“Well, hello there, Mammon, Beel, Salomé. What a coincidence,” Lord Diavolo greets them.

« Bonsoir, messieurs, » Salomé responds with an easy smile before being interrupted by Mammon. “Wait...so when you invited Lucifer to dinner, you were taking him **here?!** ”

 _“Noooo. They just came to watch you get turned into food,”_ the green-eyed human gasps sarcastically, to which Mammon starts grumbling in indignation. “I’m surprised, Beel,” the Prince says. “Here you are sitting in a restaurant, and yet you look so glum. This isn’t like you, is there some sort of problem here?”

Beel sighs. He’s hungry and irritated. “Well, to be honest...yes. You see, I’m paying for Mammon and Salomé’s dinner tonight, and Mammon said he knew about this **crazy amazing restaurant** we should go to...and then we ended up here...and he ordered all of the most expensive stuff off the menu, that I can’t pay for. Then the waiter said they have a policy where if anyone cancels their order, they get turned into ingredients for their kitchen.”

Lord Diavolo nods, listening intently. “Ah...so anyone who cancels their order is cursed, and subsequently turned into ingredients for the kitchen...well then, the solution is simple. Instead of canceling your order, you’ll just eat dinner, pay for it, and that will be that. I’ll take care of the bill.”

Beel feels his eyes go wide, and Mammon laughs. “ALL RIGHT! That’s great news, ain’t it, Beel! Good thing we talked this over with Lord Diavolo! Welp, time to chow down! I’m gonna eat until I’m ready to explode! As long as Lord Diavolo’s payin’, I think I’ll go ahead and add—” There it is again, the very faint scent of flowers, and Mammon yelps as Salomé clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Oh, sir, are you sure it’s alright?” she asks the prince, to which Lord Diavolo smiles and nods. “Gah, thank you _so, so_ much. We appreciate it, really. We’re _so_ sorry for the inconvenience,” she sighs, letting go of Mammon, and as the floral scent vanishes yet _again_ , he makes a face as if he’s spitting something out. Beel frowns slightly. What’s _that_ all about?

“See, Salomé! Ya worry too much!” Mammon waves over their waiter as if nothing’s happened. “Everything's fine, ‘cause Lord Diavolo’s payin’! Now, I’d like to add a daily special—”

“Nuh-uh, Mammon. You’re not eating anything,” Lucifer orders, to which his younger brother starts whining. Salomé and Beel ignore him and order what they want, to which Mammon pouts.

“Looks like you’ll be having the best of the best tonight, considering that he’s not getting any of his order,” the human says to him as his older brother sulkily turns his attention to his D.D.D. “Are you excited?”

He nods, smiling. “I’ve never been here before. This must be one of those restaurants that Lucifer and Lord Diavolo use for fancy receptions and stuff...” He can feel his mouth already water at the prospect of the world-class meal he’s about to indulge in tonight. “Are you sure you ordered enough? You humans don’t eat enough, and you don’t eat the right things. That’s why you’re a lot less physically capable than us demons.”

She raises her eyebrows and laughs. “Believe me, I’m sure I got enough for myself. In fact, humans really can’t eat like demons do without getting sick...well, I mean, a couple of hundred years ago there was this one guy who couldn’t stop eating...” Her brow furrows and her eyes widen as if she’s on the edge of an epiphany. “Hey Beel, did you ever ah, go to France, like, 300 years ago...? You ever, um, eat a live human baby while you were there...?”

He stares at her. “....Salomé, why would I eat a live baby?”

Mammon is also now looking at her like she'd sprouted another head. “...why the hell would ya ask that?”

She throws up her hands. “Look, a couple hundred years ago there was this guy in France who just. Could not stop eating! His stomach was a literal bottomless hole. He ate all sorts of things besides food, like live animals, metal and glass objects, and garbage. No one knew how he did it, and he was constantly underweight and malnourished. Anyway, at one point he ate a baby. And then he died like four years later.” She shrugs. “There’s only ever been one other human who’s been remotely like that, so I was just wondering if it was Beel in disguise or something...”

“I wouldn’t eat garbage...”

“Ya sure about that?”

_“Yes, Mammon.”_

“So the name Tarrare doesn’t ring a bell...?” He shakes his head, and Salomé sighs, visibly disappointed. “Okay. Forget all that, then...”

* * *

“So, Number 2, tell me, if you’re comfortable, of course,” Salomé says as she escorts the tiny demon down the stairs after completing her tasks for the day, “How, um...how did you like...come into being?”

“Well, if you’re asking if I have parents like you humans and demons do...not in that sense. But I guess you could say Mammon would be the closest thing to my parent, because I’m _technically_ a familiar of his. I basically exist because of his magic.”

“Do you address him like that? As a superior or like a parent’s equivalent?”

“Not really. I mean, it’s _Mammon._ Can you _imagine?”_

She frowns for a moment, brow furrowing. “I mean, he technically is your boss, so it wouldn’t hurt, but...Papa...Mammon?...eugh, never mind, I don’t know how to feel about that...”

“Papa Mammon!” No. 2 cackles, and its laughter is quite infectious, as Salomé begins to giggle along with it. “Shhh, shh. I think he’ll blow a gasket if he hears you...”

“PAPA MAMMON!” the ink-blot demon shouts defiantly, only for Salomé to wheeze and scoop it up in her arms and cover its mouth, striding over to the door to let it out. _“Shhh!_ He’s been in a foul mood ever since last night when Lucifer forbade him from eating at Ristorante Six after he ordered a quarter of the menu, I really don’t want to make it worse...you should catch him off-guard with it sometime, though. I think it’d be funny.” The little demon grins up at her as she walks up to the gate and opens it to let it out. “Thanks again for the help today. Same time tomorrow?” It nods and waves at her before bounding out of sight to do God-knows-what.

 _“Papa Mammon,”_ she snickers to herself once more, shaking her head as she heads back up the walk and closes the door behind her. She moves to head back up the stairs to go relax in Beel’s room and figure out what to do with the _response_ she’d received—only to freeze, as she hears Beel and Lucifer’s voices coming from down the hall. _...what if it’s about...well, no harm in checking...maybe it can help me figure out what to do here..._

“—insist on sending an exchange student to the human world, I’ll go instead. So could you let Belphie come back to the Devildom?”

_“The poor fool.”_

_If he finds out, fuck the kitchen, I think he’d destroy the whole house._

“No.”

“But—”

“You understand Diavolo’s dream, don’t you?”

“...for angels, demons, and humans to recognize, accept, and respect one another. And to create a new world together—”

 _Diavolo’s got a mountain of a task ahead of him, truly. I mean, I’m sure the magical side of the human world would be open to it, but the_ **rest** _? The Catholic Church would fucking implode, I bet._

“Exactly. And the first step toward that goal is this exchange program. But Belphegor **opposed** it. I will eliminate **anyone** who tries to stand in the way of Diavolo’s dream, no matter who they might be. Even if it’s my own brother.”

 _Ah. So_ ** _that’s_** _what the fight was about. But the question now is_ ** _why_ ** _Belphegor opposed it. And if he opposed it, why would Lucifer send him up as_ ** _part_ **_of the program? Didn’t he think Belphegor would cause trouble if he hated it so vehemently?...for a demon, he does not really think his lies through. All one needs to do is take a look at all of them together and realize they’re poorly stitched, like a kid’s first sewing project._

“Beel, it’s not that I don’t understand how you feel. Belphie is your twin brother, and you were especially close to him. So, with that said, answer me this. Who would you choose to side with, Belphegor or me?”

_“Such audacity.”_

_I know, right?_ Beel is stammering now, and Salomé’s frowns in sympathy. She’s tempted to send her Stand out towards him in an attempt at comfort, only to barely stop herself from jumping in surprise when she hears Mammon, from right behind her: “...so he can’t manage to answer, eh? That’s just like Beel...” She gives him an exasperated look and then presses a finger to her lips. “What? Don’t look at me like that. You were eavesdroppin’ on them too. You tryin’ to tell me that it’s okay for **you** to do it, but not **me?** If we stay here too long, eventually Lucifer is gonna find us. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

She nods and waits until they’re in the dining room before saying anything. “Well, actually, I was trying to find Beel for something, but, looks like he’s going to be occupied for a bit.” A smooth lie. She shifts from foot to foot. “I must say, what we heard explains a lot...see, the other night, Beel, uh...” She curls her hands and wrists inward in an attempt to come up with the proper words. “...told me some things. About Belphegor, and your sister...”

Mammon raises his eyebrows. “...Huh. So, Beel told you about Belphie and Lilith, didn’t he? I’ve gotta say, gettin’ Beel to tell you about Belphie and Lilith…for a human, you’ve done good! I gotta hand it to ya!” _...again with the weird...species-ism. Is that a thing?_ “Anyway...how do I explain this? So, we were all actually angels up in the Celestial Realm before we fell from grace, so to speak. Back then, Lucifer was especially fond of Beel, Belphie, and Lilith. He loved those three…but things changed after we ended up in the Devildom...” 

“You don’t have to go further into it if you don’t want to,” Salomé interjects gently. _That must still be a sore spot for them, no matter how many years have passed._ Mammon blinks at her, evidently surprised, and then shakes his head. “Nah, it’s okay. See, Lucifer is such a super-serious guy and all, so after pledging loyalty to Lord Diavolo, he always put Diavolo’s desires first from that point on, no matter what. He does it even when it’s something he doesn’t agree with, ya know? I mean, seriously, would it kill him to be a little flexible sometimes?”

“Lucifer doesn’t exactly strike me as a yes man...to the letter,” she murmurs, but Mammon only sighs and shrugs. “Anyway, that’s what brought this on. When Lord Diavolo suggested this exchange program thing, and Belphie opposed it, Lucifer wouldn’t listen to a thing Belphie said. He just sent him straight up to the human world, and that was that...”

“Hold up, hold up,” she says. “So Belphie was opposed to the program, so to punish him Lucifer made him a part of it without hearing him out? And I’m guessing Belphie hasn’t caused any trouble in the human world during his time there in some sort of rebellion?”

Mammon shakes his head and scratches at the back of his neck. “...I mean, I’m not sayin’ that Belphie would’ve convinced him of anything even if he’s taken the time to listen, but still…if the two of them would’ve talked it out, I can’t help thinkin' things would’ve turned out different.” 

_But_ **_why_ ** _did Belphegor oppose the program? “Most agree with Diavolo, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t vulgar demons out there who wouldn’t harm you.”...is that it?_

“Whoa, did ya hear that?!” 

“Hm?”

“I just said somethin’ kinda awesome there, didn’t I?! It’s not often I do that!”

She cackles, filing away her questions about Belphegor to deal with later. “Truly, a momentous occasion,” she quips sarcastically, but grinning fondly at him to show there wasn’t any venom behind her words.

He nods eagerly. “Way to go, me! Man, I’m amazing! Hey, come on, I think I deserve some praise here! And while you’re at it, how about ya show a little reverence, too!” She raises an eyebrow, her Stand materializing at her side. A ghostly purple and white hand reaches out and pats him on the head in praise, and he freezes—only for the Stand to suddenly grab him around the waist and hoist him in the air to spin him around as a parent does with a small child, and he _yells_ , while Salomé’s doubled over with laughter.

“D’AHH—don’t—don’t DO that!”

“Shit! That face you make never gets old,” she manages through her giggles, wiping at her eyes as her Stand returns Mammon to his original standing position before fading away again. “Was that good enough?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call—whatever the hell **that** was _reverence,_ Salomé!”

“Ah, so you’re a words of affirmation type as opposed to physical. Well, then—yes, Mammon. That was unexpectedly wise of you, and most welcome, but—” She reaches forward and pinches his nose teasingly, to which he yelps— “—don’t you go about getting a big head about it now!”

He whines a bit as she lets go, but all she does is shake her head fondly at him, allowing the conversation to enter a lull. “Hey,” he says suddenly, and she notices how it looks like he’s trying to put the words together. “...ya don’t ever say anything about your... _thing..._ even though you’ve used it a lot in front of me...” The _why_ is unspoken, but it’s obvious. Then, he catches her off-guard.

“I can _smell_ it, ya know.”

“...you can _what?”_

“ _Simeon said he could smell me too. Perhaps it’s a trait left behind after they became demons.”_ She elects not to press further, instead sighing and clicks her tongue against her teeth at him.

“...yeah, I can. Smells like flowers, so...” Again, the unspoken _why._

“Mammon, come on now. You’re a gambling man. Don’t you know? You have to know when to show your hand, and if you fuck up the timing, you’re gonna lose the game, which I’ve got no intention of doing.” She rests her hands on the back of her neck, smile lopsided but true. “And I’ve been a dealer for long enough in different places and watched enough players from all over to learn when that time is—and it’s not now.” A pause. “But, if it makes you feel any better, you’re the only one out of all your brothers who’s picked up on it.”

* * *

She’s sitting on Beel’s bed that night, while Beel himself is in the shower, Belphegor’s response before her, when the text comes.

**Luke:**

>Can you come outside now?

>I’m in front of the House of Lamentation.

**Salomé:**

>What’s all this about?

>Sure, give me a moment.

 _All by himself?_ She muses as she moves to shove the letter under the mattress and then makes her way down to the front door in her pajamas. _I mean, he’s probably a whole lot older than I am, despite how young he looks, and I bet he definitely has some sort of Celestial magic he can use to defend himself...but still..._

“Salomé!” the little angel calls out from the gate as she heads outside, and she waves in response, her Stand automatically manifesting at her side at the sight of him. “You came! Thank you, I was so worried! I don’t know what I’d do if someone saw me hanging out in a place like this!”

She raises an eyebrow as she opens up the gate for him. “Yeah, of course. Did something happen?”

“Yeah...if nothing happened, I wouldn’t have come over to this den of demons. Now,” His little hands suddenly grasp onto one of hers, and she blinks at him in surprise. “I’ll get right to the point. I need you to let me spend the night in your room tonight. Please, I’m begging you!”

_I...what?_

_“Salomé’s room is...unusable at the moment,”_ her Stand replies, floating a little bit lower to make even eye contact with Luke. _“One of the walls was destroyed, so she’s been staying in Beelzebub’s room until it’s fixed. Is that suitable?”_

Luke’s eyes widen. _“Destroyed?_ How?! I **knew** having a human stay in the same house with all those demons is just a recipe for disaster...!”

_“Mammon tried to force Salomé to eat Beelzebub’s custard. She used me to trick him into eating it himself. Beelzebub thus destroyed the kitchen in a rage, and because Salomé’s room is the next one over...”_

He shakes his head in disbelief, and Salomé sighs. “Look, Beel’s room is the only option. But it won’t do any good for us to be caught outside like this. Let’s go inside and talk things out, yeah?” He sighs, long and drawn out, but nods eventually, and Salomé smiles before leading him inside. He tenses noticeably when she closes the door behind them, and her Stand puts her hands on his shoulders in an attempt to comfort him, which apparently works as they make their way to Beel’s room.

Beel is lying down on the couch in gray sweatpants _(oh wow okay then)_ and a white tank top when Salomé enters with the angel in tow, and he shoots up in surprise. “Now, now, wait a minute. He said he had to run away, so I thought it’d be best to at least hear him out,” Salomé explains before Beel can say anything. He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t remember asking anyone to pick up a **dog** from the street and bring it back **here,** not to mention one that never stops **barking.** ”

 _Again with the chihuahua jokes._ “Hey! Don’t you compare me to a dog! Anyway, I wasn’t **picked up off the street!** I came here of my own free will!” Luke looks like he’s about to complain more, only for the Stand at his back to clamp a hand over his mouth. _“You do_ ** _not_ **_want Lucifer to hear you,”_ she says.

Beel moves to grab a cup resting on the table and then hands it over to Luke, at which point the Stand stops holding his mouth. “Here, drink this for now, and try to calm down.” The angel, of course, responds with fear. “Wh-what’s this supposed to be?... It’s red. It better not be some sort of weird demon drink—like some strange creature’s blood or something! Tell me it’s not!”

“It’s just pomegranate juice.”

Salomé snorts. Luke’s brow is still furrowed, but he takes a sip. Beel’s head suddenly tilts to the side, and he begins sniffing the air, almost like a dog.

“Something up, Beel?”

“...Salomé, are you wearing perfume?”

She blinks. “Um. No...? Why, what are you smelling?”

“Belladonna...nightshade. It’s really faint, though.”

**_FUCK._ **

Luke’s eyes go wide, evidently having caught onto what’s going on by how the Stand at his back moves to stare at Beel, and thankfully saves the situation with a “Beelzebub, why are you being so nice to me? It’s creeping me out.”

The orange-haired demon smiles, floral scent forgotten. “Because you gave me cake once.”

Salomé moves to sit down on the bench at the foot of Beel’s bed, and Luke sits down next to her. “Did I?... Ah, right, you’re talking about **that** one time...”

“You bake?” she asks, and the little angel nods eagerly. “It’s nothing important, really. But in recent years I’ve actually been learning how to bake cakes and pastries and things.”

“Oooh. Well, let me know next time you whip up something good, I’d love to try.”

“Okay! It’s not that impressive, I mean, I’ve only been doing it for about 200 years or so. I’m still an amateur! Michael loves sweets of all kinds, so I’d like to present him with a cake I made myself someday! That’s why I’m doing it!”

 _Oof. And thus the mortality crisis rears its ugly head once more._ “So how did Beel here get that cake?”

“Well anyway, not too long ago I was testing out a new cake recipe, when Beel happened to walk by. He mentioned he was hungry, so…”

“Mmmm, just thinking back on it makes me wish I could have some right now...”

“I only meant for him to sample it and give me his opinion, but he inhaled the entire thing in a single bite! He didn’t even stop to taste it!”

“It was good, and I told you so back then as well.”

 _“He was_ ** _definitely_** _Tarrare,”_ her Stand says, almost sounding awed, and it takes all of Salomé’s power not to burst out laughing. Luke huffs before turning to her. “He loves to eat, but his vocabulary is almost nonexistent. He’d make the worst food reporter ever.”

“I bet he could do mukbangs on DevilTube, though,” she hums. “So, anyway, Luke...did something happen with Simeon?”

The angel sighs, and then launches into a spiel about how Simeon was getting _way_ too close to the demons for his taste and how they were angels and they _weren’t supposed to be fraternizing with demons,_ and it gets to the point that her Stand clutches Luke’s shoulder and says into his ear, _“You shouldn’t be talking bad about demons in front of one.”_

“Okay, I get...where you’re coming from,” she replies once he finishes. “This is an unprecedented program, and it’s going to take a lot of time to unlearn a lot of what you’ve been conditioned to think about the Devildom during your time in the Celestial Realm...” _The young are always more extreme than the old._ “But why tonight? Did things come to a head?”

“I, um...I told Simeon our friendship was over, and then I strode right out of Purgatory Hall—that’s our dorm—so I can’t go crawling back now, not after I did that...” _Yeah, that would be embarrassing._ “...which is why I’m asking you to let me stay here for a while.”

“Even though you hate **demons?”** Beel asks.

 _“He makes an excellent point,”_ the Stand throws in.

“Well, what choice do I have?! This is the only place I could think of to go...” 

The human winces sympathetically, and her Stand gives the little angel a small hug around the shoulders. “It's a huge gamble to let you stay here, as I suspect Lucifer wouldn't be pleased. And while I personally think it wouldn’t hurt if it’s just for a little bit until you feel more comfortable...the fact remains that this is Beel’s room, Beel’s rules, so he has the final say,” Salomé says, turning to the orange-haired demon, awaiting his verdict.

* * *

“...and anyway, that’s how I have two roommates now.”

Tunrida looks up from her sketchbook to the human beside her on the RAD garden bench with a raised eyebrow. “Sounds noisy.”

“Well, Beel’s pretty quiet. It’s Luke who makes the most noise, but he’s a good kid at heart.”

The ice demon shakes her head, adjusting the long, fluffy white scarf she wears around her neck. “You know, you’re the envy of over half the girls here, but considering everything you’ve told me—what with the TSL quiz and now this, I’m starting to wonder if their jealousy is unfounded.”

Salomé blinks in surprise. “Me? The envy of the girls? _Why?”_

“You really don’t know?” When the human shakes her head, Tunrida sighs and lays her sketchbook down on her lap. “ _Come on._ They’re the student council. The _it_ crowd, the most powerful demons in school—and they’ve all got fans who’d kill to spend even one night in that house with them. I think a quarter of the girls here would faint if they found out you were rooming with Beel.”

“Really not liking what you’re implying there, Tunrida.”

“Relax. I don’t think anyone’s crazy enough to go after you, what with your pacts and your... _gift._ But yeah. One girl, six extremely attractive men, all in one house...basically, you’re living out their wildest fantasy.”

_“Again...really not liking what you’re implying there, Tunrida.”_

“Wait, are you...are you saying nothing’s happened? _At all?_ ” She stares at the human. _Impossible._

“Not in the R-rated department, no, and certainly not with **all six of them at once, holy shit—** are people saying that?”

“Abyzou would know if they are, but I doubt it...but hey, Asmodeus lives in that house...and he hits on _everyone..._ ”

“He’s certainly the most beautiful out of all of them, yeah, but I just...haven’t been in the mood.”

“You’re _immune_ to his charm?...do you, you know...?”

“...I mean, I, uh,” the human raises a hand to scratch at the back of her neck. “I do like girls, yeah, but I like guys too...”

Tunrida stares at her, pulling her scarf up further to cover her lower face before muttering “...I was going to ask if you had some strong latent magic that you just never learned to use...do you have magic...that’s what I was going to ask...”

“Eh...oops.” They sit there for a moment staring at each other in silence before Salomé hurriedly starts waving her hands. “I’m, um—I’m sorry—”

“It’s fine, no, no, you’re fine, don’t worry... _fuck,_ it’s cold...”

“Oh. Okay.” The silence is suffocating, and then Salomé points at her sketchbook. “That’s really impressive. Where is that?”

Tunrida flinches and blinks in surprise, looking down at her sketchbook. “...it’s in the Human World,” she murmurs, to which Salomé’s face lights up. “Wait, really?” She stretches her hands forward, wanting to look closer. “May I?”

“Please don’t,” the ice demon murmurs, and while disappointment flickers on her face, Salomé takes her hands away respectfully. “It’s a place I flew over once, in the far, far north...I believe the humans call it Greenland? It isn’t green at all.”

The human laughs. “Yep, and Iceland is very green. It’s a well-known gag in the human world. What’s so special about this place, though?”

“Well, it was known as cursed ground, you see. They said a large rock had fallen from the sky there, thrown by the gods.”

Salomé’s eyes go wide. “...oh?”

“Yeah. It was cursed because almost everyone who got too close would soon fall ill with a terrible fever, and die within two months. And the few who survived...well, they were never the same. They got powers, apparently.”

“...interesting.”

“I met one of them, once. Way back when us demons could freely travel to the human world...”

“And what happened?” The human adjusts the gold chain around her neck.

“Well, he was by himself, out in the tundra. I was going to eat him...” she pauses, studying her companion.

“And? You were gonna eat him...?”

“I’m just surprised at how you’re taking this so casually.”

“What, the eating? Please, I had about 10 people threaten to eat me the first two days I was here. I got used to it.”

“...okay. So, I tried to attack him...then, he shouted something, like he was _calling_ something, and then it was like some kind of invisible _lightning_ struck me, and I knew it came from him. Yet, every time I tried to get closer to him, I felt these...invisible hands dragging me back and practically pumping me with even more lightning shocks. And it wasn’t magic, at least not in the way us demons know it. It hurt like...nothing I’ve ever felt before or since, and you know what the really scary part was?”

“...what?” 

“That I couldn’t do anything against it. Any ice I created was instantly melted, and I’m guessing it had to do with his invisible lightning. He barely even moved, he didn’t _have_ to, all he did was take a few steps backward and shout that no foul demon could touch him, as he had been blessed by the strike of an arrow created with some metal found at the supposed cursed ground, and thus gifted with ‘the power of the gods’...” She shivers. _It’s cold._

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine.” A shrug. “It was really long ago. He just stood there, letting...whatever it was keep electrocuting me until I shouted that I would leave him be. I barely made it out of his sight before collapsing. I really thought I was going to die that night, and when I woke up the only thing at the site where I had found him were the smoldering remains of his campfire.”

“...holy shit,” the human breathes. 

“...You don’t need to pity me. You’re a human, you’ll say I deserved it.”

“I mean...you _were_ going to kill him.”

“That’s fair. I just...” she shivers. “...it was so intense, you know? The fact that I couldn’t even _see_ what was going on...it was kind of like the night we met, with the whole situation in the bathroom with Ephippas, Abyzou, and...”

_A power I couldn’t even see, he didn’t even have to move, and I couldn’t even do anything because it caught me so off-guard..._

“...you.” 

“Me.” The green eyes are unflinching. _Confirmation._

The temperature of the air around them drops dramatically and Tunrida feels herself begin to shiver more rapidly, dread and awe forming a pit in her stomach. “Y...you...you’re one of th-them, aren’t y-y-you? One of th-those p-people...w-w-with wh-what they c-called the p-power of th-the g-g-gods.”

Salomé doesn’t even flinch at the cold. In fact, she’s so still that Tunrida wonders if she’d accidentally frozen her. Those green eyes are fixed on her face, searching her for something. Weighing the options carefully. Tunrida’s pretty sure frost has begun to form at their feet.

Then, the charcoal-haired human _laughs._

“You’ve caught me, and thus, I fold,” the human replies. “Well done, Tunrida. Yes. I am one of those people with this ‘power of the gods’. Though we know now it isn’t anything related to the divine. All I ask is you keep your kindness from the night we met and not tell anybody, hm? Unless I say it’s okay.”

The ice demon stares into those summery green eyes. At this mysterious human—the one who doesn’t fear the cold, the one who got pacts with the Second and Third Lords of Hell within a month, the one with this mysterious power that seems impossible to fight. “...what...what is it? What’s it called?”

**_“OI! SALOMÉ!”_ **

Tunrida clamps her hands over her ears as she practically jumps in her seat. Mammon is standing behind her, several feet away. “We got class in like two minutes, and Lucifer’ll skin me if you’re late!”

“Forgive me, Mammon,” the human calls out breezily to her assigned protector, and Tunrida watches despairingly as she stands up and grabs her bag. _I’m cold. I’m not going to get an answer now, am I?_ Then, suddenly, the human leans downwards and puts a hand on her shoulder.

“A Stand,” Salomé breathes against her ear, and it’s so _warm_ that she can’t help but shudder. “I have what is known as a Stand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do y’all ever think about how terrifying it would be to go up against a stand user when you don’t have a stand?? they’re just standing there menacingly while you get the shit beat out of you by something you can’t see, and they’re probably casually monologuing on top of it...wack (but don't you worry, i have some ideas in the mix for demon/magic vs a stand...).
> 
> also, if you catch the "the young pope" quote ily
> 
> « Mais pourquoi diable me fait ça? Ostie de colon... » = Why the hell did you do that? Idiot...  
> « J’irai la voir un jour...Au ciel dans la patrie... » = I'll see her one day...in the sky/heaven, in the garden. (From the hymn and lullaby "J'irai la voir un jour", often associated with Catholic funerals).  
> « Aww, merci beaucoup! » = Aww, thank you very much!  
> « Bonsoir, messieurs, » = Good evening, sirs,


	8. 「 LAY ALL YOUR LOVE ON ME 」

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins' room has a surprise inspection. Solomon has a slight recollection. Beel has a story to tell. Salomé has a **_very_** nasty surprise in store for Lucifer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **minor spoiler for lesson 38 re: solomon.**
> 
> y'all don't know how many times i renamed this fuckin stand is2g
> 
> ALSO now that i've revealed the stand name, i've made a little playlist of all the chapter names/songs that show up/music references. it goes up to chapter 10, and i'll update it as the new chapters come out/as the ideas strike me:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BeUhSRYWflpi4NoU7k8kk

“You _told her?!”_

Salomé sighs, running a hand through her hair. She’s sitting alone with the young angel on Beel’s bed, the orange-haired demon having made a run to the convenience store to pick up what will no doubt be an obscene amount of snacks. “I mean...she figured it out on her own. I just told her what they’re called.”

“But what if she tells any of the other demons—or even worse, Lord Diavolo?!”

“I mean...she could. But I don’t think she will. She kept my secret after watching my Stand in action, it doesn’t make any sense for her to snitch _now,_ after finding out what it’s called. Don't you worry, I have no intentions of straight-up telling someone else. But if they figure it out, they figure it out.”

“Hmph!” _He really does act like a chihuahua._ “You need to be more careful, Salomé, especially with those girls! At least the student council is _obligated_ to look after you, but not the average demon! And isn’t one of them a succubus...?”

“Meridiana is, yeah. She’s the one who speaks French with me.”

He shakes his head wildly. “Even worse! She’ll trick you into giving up your soul, Salomé!”

“Nah, I don’t think so. And I’m sure there are much worse ways to die down here than at the hands of a pretty girl who makes an effort at my first language.”

“A pretty girl who’s a _demon!”_ She cackles good-naturedly at his conviction that Meridiana is up to no good, and then an idea strikes her.

“Hey, um... just out of curiosity, I wouldn’t get into any trouble if I love girls, right? Like, in trouble with, uh...your dad? Just checking.”

“Why would it get you in trouble if you love girls?” the blonde angel asks, tilting his head. “If you’re happy, and the other girl is happy, isn’t that all that matters?”

“...Yeah. Yeah, it is!"

“...Salomé...why are you punching the air? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, you didn’t! It’s just...gah...there are a lot of humans who would love to hear that. Who _need_ to hear that.” She pulls Luke into a hug. “Thanks, Luke.”

He hugs her back, albeit confused, until she lets him go. “...Salomé, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Um...” He fiddles with his hands nervously, blue eyes darting around. “Last night, I woke up...and you were sitting up and crying, and you had your Stand wrapped around Beel...I was going to say something, I promise! But then your Stand turned to look at me and did—” He puts a finger to his lips. “So I laid back down, and I was going to ask you about it...but then I fell back asleep. What were you doing?”

 _Oops._ “Beel gets nightmares, see,” she sighs. “And remember what my Stand’s abilities are?”

“Oh, oh! Empathy and calming, right?”

“Bingo,” she hums, pointing at him and summoning a tiny vine to spring from her finger and wrap around his head; giving him a flower crown, at which he laughs and touches it. She smiles fondly. “And well...since he _is_ letting me use his bed, and has been pretty nice to me during my whole time here, aside from the whole wall-destroying fiasco, I thought that maybe helping him calm down was the least I could do, you know? And the crying...well, that wasn’t _me._ Basically, I cried his tears, because of my Stand’s empathetic ability. Does that make sense?”

Luke nods. “Okay. As long as you weren’t hurt...you know, that’s a very angelic thing to do, Salomé!”

“Is it?” She grins, ducking her head down in embarrassment, a slight tint appearing on her cheeks.

“Yeah!” Then, his face turns pensive. “Nightmares, huh...they must be about the war...”

“The war?” The crown of flowers on his head fades as she sits up. _I don’t want him to get tired in the middle of telling me._

“Well, you’ve heard the story about Lucifer and his brothers, right? They used to be angels…well, all except for Satan.”

“Yeah. Then they rebelled, and fell...did you know them back then? As angels?”

He nods again. “It was a long, long time ago. So long ago that you humans couldn’t even imagine how far back it was. Back then, Lucifer was the strongest and most beautiful of all the angels. He had six pure white wings, and light radiated from them…”

Her eyebrows shoot up. Sure, Lucifer is handsome now, that’s just an obvious fact. _But apparently, he was even better-looking as an angel...? Damn, there’s no shortage of hot people everywhere_ ** _but_ **_the human world._

“Now, keep this between us, alright? You absolutely can’t tell anyone else, understand? Not Beelzebub or any of his brothers, either.” She grins mischievously at his words and holds up her right pinky finger, to which he tilts his head. “Oh—this is a human thing, Luke. Pinky promise. Hold yours up, and wrap it around mine.” He does, and she slowly shakes their hands. “There. Pinky-promise, I’m not going to tell anybody.” The angel bursts into a fit of giggles. _So pure...how does one go about adopting angels?_

“Anyway!” He leans closer to her, whispering conspiratorially. “I admired Lucifer even more than Michael and it wasn’t just me. Other angels felt the same way. I think everyone did!” _Oh my_ **_God,_ ** _bless this kid. I’m gonna cry._ “Remember, this is our little secret, okay?” She nods, only to suddenly sit up and put a finger to her lips at the sound of footsteps approaching rapidly.

 _“Oh Taaaaarraaaaare,”_ she calls out jokingly as Beel suddenly slams the door open, carrying an insane amount of plastic bags, all filled to the brim with food. Luke, on the other hand, jumps. “D’AAAH! Y-you scared me! Beelzebub! At least knock before coming in! Sure, this is your room, but right now it’s my room too—”

“We’re in big trouble,” the orange-haired demon interjects, setting down the bags on the bench at the foot of his bed. “You’re about to be found out.”

Salomé shoots up with her eyes wide, adrenaline already kicking in, an instinct gained from one too many Californian high school parties. Luke is slower on the uptake. “...huh?”

“We’re having a surprise inspection. Now.” 

The human immediately jumps out of bed and begins visually scouting the room, poppies and belladonna appearing and disappearing from her skin in her agitation. _Up those stairs, maybe? No, I don’t know if we can get him up there in time. The balcony? No, the curtains are always open. It’ll be more noticeable if they’re closed. FUCK._

“A surprise inspection? What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I said. Lucifer shows up unannounced and goes around checking each room to see if anyone is out past curfew.” _I spent my adolescence being raised by a single father and_ ** _nothing_ **_he ever did radiated as much single father energy as this does, holy_ ** _shit._ **

“Oh...but it’s okay, right? All I have to do is hide, right? Maybe under the bed or behind the curtains—”

“Nah, it’s not going to be that easy,” Salomé cuts him off, and Beel nods. “You’ll have to do WAY better than that. Lucifer does more than check to see if everyone’s in their rooms. He also searches the inside of the room itself. Asmodeus had a witch that he’d brought back home one night in his room, she transformed into a spider and hid, but Lucifer still found her.” 

“Wha—?! We don’t have anything like that at Purgatory Hall! Salomé, has this happened while you’ve been here?”

“No, this is the first time since I’ve been here, but I’ve...been to my fair share of police-raided house parties in my time, I know how this goes. You're basically the equivalent of, eh...contraband," she replies hurriedly, and Luke’s eyes go wide. **_“Contraband—?”_ **

_“Luke cannot exactly be flushed down the toilet and we cannot jump out of the bathroom window afterward.”_

_The point remains!_

“Right now, you need to hide,” Beel interrupts the angel. Salomé helps pull Luke out of the bed and follows Beel to Belphegor’s side of the room, and the Avatar of Gluttony flings open the closet doors. “Get in the closet.” 

The angel’s eyes are wide with fear. “What’s the point of me hiding in the closet? I mean, you said he even found a witch that had transformed herself into a spider, right?!”

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t at least put in a modicum of effort,” Salomé replies, calling out her Stand to float behind him. Beel nods. “If you keep standing there doing nothing, he’ll find you for sure. I’ll think up some excuse to keep him from looking in there. Now hurry!”

 _“I’ll protect you,”_ her Stand whispers to Luke, wrapping her arms around him and dragging him further into the closet as Beel pushes him in and shuts the doors. The orange-haired demon then _vaults_ over his twin brother’s bed back to his side of the room as Salomé runs back across the room, grabbing his wrist to bring him closer once he’s landed, hisses a _“Be cool,”_ , and then opens up her phone up to Devilgram as if she’s showing him a post. That’s how Lucifer finds them.

“Alright,” he says as he opens the door, looking around the room. “Inspection time. Beel, Salomé, I see you’re both here.” Salomé plasters a smile on her face and gives a little wave. _Good evening, officer! Everyone in here is over 21 and has an ID to prove it!_ He doesn’t smile back. _Fuck._ “I’m going to have a look through your room to be certain everything's in order here.” She nods understandingly, and Beel is totally still. Literally, she’s beginning to wonder if he’d just fall over if she flicked him on the forehead.

“But before I do...is there anything you’d like to tell me?” **_Massive_ **_cop energy._ Salomé gets the feeling that he’s not looking at the both of them huddled over her D.D.D., but rather straight at her. She meets his gaze coolly.

_Fuck’s sake, if I could hide my Stand from my girlfriend for a year, I can hide a fucking angel for all of five minutes._

“No. Is there a problem, officer?” **_WHY._ **

Both demons stare at her, and she only raises an eyebrow. _Play it off, play it off!_ “...something on my face?”

“...alright,” Lucifer says eventually, and then turns to Beel. _Damn, now I’m really wishing I had a smoke._ “Beel. Open up the closet.” _Shit!_ In her mind’s eye, Salomé goes to see through her Stand—only to freeze. _No. No way...how...?_

_“He went through the wall.”_

_I’m sorry,_ **_WHAT?_ **

_“He did. When Lucifer came into the room, he leaned back...and just fell through the wall. I tried to hold onto him, but it didn’t let me go through with him. It felt like magic.”_ Beel eventually opens the doors, looking pained, only for his eyes to widen when faced with nothing there (that he can see). The human keeps her face neutral as Lucifer grimly admits defeat and swiftly leaves the room, and she calls out a goodnight after him. Beel stands in a stupor for a few moments, and her eyes narrow. _Through the wall. Lucifer’s room is on the other side of the wall, I believe..._ **_ah, we’re fucked._ **

“Luke disappeared,” he says eventually, and Salomé approaches him, allowing her Stand to dissipate. “Weird...I know I pushed him into the **closet** a minute ago...what’s going on?”

“...open it again. Touch the back of the closet.”

He blinks, tilting his head slightly. “Why?”

“Just try it.” His brow furrows, but the Avatar of Gluttony obliges, albeit hesitatingly. His hand makes contact with the wall, and...nothing, it remains solid. “Ah, damn...”

“There’s magic here. _Celestial_ magic. It’s really faint, but it’s there.”

“I—I’m sorry, what?” She approaches the closet, looking into it. “So you’re saying he used a spell to get out of there?”

Beel shakes his head. “If he did, Lucifer would’ve known instantly. This magic feels like it’s been here a long time...and it doesn’t _feel_ like Luke...”

“So basically, shit’s fucked.” The orange-haired demon’s face falls at her words, and he does that thing that Salomé’s noticed he does when he gets sad or agitated with his hands. _Fuck. Fuck. This won’t help._

“Hey, hey,” she says quickly, reaching up to put her hands on either side of his face and adjusting it so they’re staring into each other’s eyes. “Look at me, yeah? Now, I’m just as clueless as you are as to what just happened—” _Almost, anyway._ “—but it’s gonna get better, yeah? We’re gonna find Luke without getting caught, we’re gonna leave the house with him without getting caught, and then we’re all going to talk to Simeon and everything is gonna be _fine._ I’m speaking it into existence, okay?”

“But what if—”

“—We can’t afford to think negatively like that right now,” she interrupts, getting on her toes to look at him better. _I’m 5’9” and yet...yeesh, tall motherfucker!_ “All I know is that he’s gotta be somewhere in the house, which means we’re going to find him, and if we find him unscathed, things are gonna turn out _fine.”_

“Lucifer’s going to punish us if he finds out—”

“I know that. I accepted that fact when I came to the conclusion that it was okay for Luke to stay here. But, I’m speaking it into existence, _he’s not going to hurt us._ And if things go south, well...I’m with you. I promise.” _Are you with me?_

* * *

“You’re stressed.”

The young woman turns to face him, an easy grin making its way across her face. “Am I really so obvious?”

“You keep bouncing your leg,” Solomon says as he sits down beside her on the hallway bench. “It’s not because you’re alone, is it? No demon is insane enough to go after someone with pacts with the Second and Third Demon Lords.” _And your little...gift._

“What? No,” she replies, switching off her phone—she’s been playing Mononoke Land, evidently, probably at Levi’s insistence. “It’s, er...”

“Luke,” is his next guess, to which she nods with a sigh. “Let me guess—if Lucifer finds out, he’ll blow a fuse.”

“Yeah, pretty much. I’m hoping to convince him to let me take him back to Purgatory Hall tonight, actually. I think he’s blown off enough steam, and it won’t do any good for him to keep avoiding Simeon like this—not to mention the longer he stays, the more pissed Lucifer is going to get.”

He laughs lightly. “Sounds like a fun situation you’ve wrapped yourself in.”

“You and I have very different definitions of fun.”

“You say tom-ay-to, I say tom-ah-to. So what are you doing out here all alone after class? You could’ve been back at the House of Lamentation a while ago.”

“Waiting for Beel to finish fangol practice. I think it’ll be easier to convince Luke with him there since they're pretty cool with each other.”

“See? You’ve got nothing to be worried about. So why are you still shaking your leg?” There’s something else, he’s sure of it. Has someone else found her out?

“Actually, yeah, uh,” She moves a hand to scratch at the back of her neck. “...you wouldn’t happen to have a cigarette on you, would you...?”

Not the answer he was looking for, but he’s not opposed to indulging her. “No, but...” He holds out his left hand, palm up, before closing it, casting a quick silent spell, and opening it to reveal a black cigarette. “...I can conjure you one.”

“Eh, thanks, you’re the greatest,” she says eagerly, plucking it from his hand. “Ah, but I—”

“Way ahead of you,” he interjects, making a little finger gun with his left hand, a small magical flame dancing in place on the tip of his index finger. **“Bang.”** Those green eyes go wide, darting from the flame to his face, mouth slightly hanging open before she shakes her head, giggling slightly. “Bet you do this trick for all the girls,” Salome murmurs, a mischievous smile on her face as she leans forward to light her cigarette on his flame.

He raises his eyebrows as she pulls away and he extinguishes it. _Did Asmo tell her stories?_ “You’d be surprised.”

“Oh, don’t give me that. What was it—if I’m remembering right, a thousand wives?”

He huffs. “ _700_ wives, and I’ll have you know they weren’t all in the same period in time, thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah, _just_ 700 wives. A measly _700,_ not counting concubines—didn’t they round out the total to a thousand?” She clicks her tongue against her teeth as she takes a drag. « Ouah, quel queutard... »

“Look, I’ve—” Her grin is teasing, head tilted towards him as she leans against the wall, and it’s getting harder for him not to laugh. “—it’s been a while, let’s just say I’ve...calmed down a lot.”

She blows a smoke ring at him. “Mmhmm...”

They stare at each other with their eyebrows raised for a solid minute before bursting into laughter. It’s nice. Comfortable. Human. He hadn’t been exaggerating to her when he’d said sometimes it didn’t seem like he was human, even to himself. It is hard to feel human as his contemporaries age and die and the world changes so quickly around him: but all the same, as the self-appointed magical protector of humanity, it was important to have moments like this. They ground him. Remind him _what_ and _who_ he’s protecting.

“...Hey, Solomon.”

“Yes, Salome?” Then there’s that feeling again—of her staring at him with two pairs of eyes. He looks around, they’re the only ones in the hallway.

“When you do magic in a space with a lot of non-magic witnesses, how do you make sure no one reports it? Do you cast some sort of memory-altering spell?”

Now _that_ wasn’t what he was expecting her to say. “Well, I haven’t been in a situation like that in a very long time...” he murmurs, and he’s prepared to launch into an explanation, but he senses that there’s something else behind her seemingly-innocuous question. “...why do you ask?”

“Well...” she takes a drag, eyes darting down to her lap. “This is going to sound _so_ weird, but like...something about you is weirdly familiar, so I was just wondering if...I don’t know, some magical bullshit happened in a place I happened to be at and you cast a spell to make me forget seeing it...” She throws up her hands helplessly. “Basically—have we met before, in the human world?”

 _I_ **_definitely_** _think I’d remember meeting a woman who can throw demons to the ground without even moving a muscle._ And he’s about to say that too, but then she tilts her head in such a way that her eyes catch the light from the candles lining the halls and _wait—he knows this. **He**_ ** _knows_ **_**her.** _ There _is_ something familiar about the light in her green eyes, the way the smoke leaves her half-open mouth. He can’t place it, though, so he shakes it off. He’s been around for a _very_ long time, there are plenty of people and things he’s forgotten. It probably doesn’t mean anything at all.

“No, sorry, you’re not familiar,” he lies finally before immediately deflecting back to a lighthearted tone. “I don’t think I’d forget your face.”

“I’m going to assume that’s a compliment,” she mutters as she playfully swats at him with her free hand, though disappointment briefly flickers in her eyes. “ _‘Calmed down’,_ sure...”

Here’s his chance. “What about you? What do you do if someone sees _you_ , Salome?”

His fellow human stiffens, and he knows that she knows. “Whatever do you mean?”

**“You know what I mean.”**

She leans in closer, and he mirrors her actions. “You’d be very surprised...” She takes a drag. “...at how unobservant most humans can be—even magical ones, presumably—when it comes to people like me.” 

His eyebrows shoot up. ‘ _People like me?’ There are_ ** _more_ **_of you?_

“Salomé,” a new voice calls, and Solomon curses his luck as she pulls away. Beelzebub is standing behind him. “Ah, you’re finished with practice,” the green-eyed woman says breezily, getting up from the bench, sticking the cigarette in her mouth, and picking up her backpack. “Bye-bye, Solomon,” she calls over her shoulder as she walks to join Beel. “See you tomorrow,” he responds casually as the demon and the human proceed to go down the stairs nearby. He waits several moments before silently stepping over to the staircase to try and make out what they’re saying.

“...why were you sitting with him?” the demon asks.

Salome laughs lightly. “I like him. He looks like fun.”

“...hm.”

“What?”

"Somehow I get the feeling that he wouldn't taste very good."

He hears Salome burst into giggles, and then their voices fade into nothingness.

* * *

“Looks like we managed to worm our way out of that somehow, huh…” Beel finds himself murmuring as Satan disappears back into his room after suddenly confronting him and Salomé in the hallway. “Would he have really snitched?” The human asks him, and he finds himself shrugging. Satan hates Lucifer—that’s just a concrete fact, but he wouldn’t put it past him to tattle out of spite. “We’d better find Luke fast...” She nods, sighing. “Let’s check again downstairs...”

“It’s strange that we still haven’t found him even after searching for all this time,” he finds himself murmuring when they’re standing in the entrance hall. “If we assume he left the House of Lamentation, then did he go back to Purgatory Hall, or could he have gone somewhere else?”

Salomé shakes her head. “I’m pretty sure that Simeon or Solomon would’ve mentioned it if he went back to Purgatory Hall. Plus, remember what he said when he first came? He didn’t know where else to go. There _is_ nowhere else for him to go down here.”

“Still, we definitely hid him in the **closet.** I know we did. So even if he did go somewhere else, it’s weird that he disappeared while inside the closet. Could Luke actually be somewhere inside of the House of Lamentation?”

She starts bouncing agitatedly on her toes. “Damn, I need a smoke...he _has_ to be here...wait. You said you felt magic in the wall, right?”

He nods, wondering where she’s going with this. “Hang on...” She motions for him to follow her, and his brow furrows when they approach the dollhouse. “...as I suspected.” She points at something, and he feels his eyes widen. “Salomé, that room doesn’t exist...!”

“Yeah, it does. Don’t you see? It’s a secret room!” she exclaims, grabbing his wrist and dragging him up the stairs. “Hidden by Celestial magic—that’s what you were feeling against the back of the closet. My best guess is that because Luke is an angel, he was, uh, compatible with the magic or something, so he must’ve fallen through the closet—!”

They come to a stop where this secret room is supposed to be, and his brow furrows. “There’s nothing here, it’s just a wall...”

“What kind of secret room would it be if it wasn’t well-hidden? Then it’d just be a regular old room. There must be a way in through here...” He blinks suddenly. She’s right. There’s something on the wall. “Take a look at this, Salomé,” Beel murmurs, placing a hand under the almost-indistinguishable writing. “It looks like a decorative pattern, but I can make out words written there...it’s a message written in the language of angels.”

She moves closer to him, attempting to read it. “What’s it say?”

“ _‘When the morning star dwelt in the heavens its light shone down upon this one, sparkling brilliantly, eighth of the eight’_...” He can feel a familiar pang of sadness as he realizes what the message is referring to. On the other hand, the human at his side twitches, face temporarily twisting into one of discomfort. “...are you okay?” She looks up at him, startled. “Uh—yeah. Don’t worry about it. What’s the meaning of the message?”

“It’s a riddle,” Beel responds, wistfulness entering his voice. “And more importantly, I know the answer to it... _‘the morning star’_ is another name for Lucifer. So _‘when the morning star dwelt in the heavens’_ means _‘when Lucifer was an angel.’_ _‘Its light shone down upon this one, sparkling brilliantly, the eighth of the eight.’_ That part refers to someone Lucifer loved deeply: the eighth child of eight, our sister...”

“Lilith,” Salomé answers, twitching again as she puts her hand parallel to his on the wall—and then the wall _glows_ , and their hands disappear. They stare at each other in shock before mutually walking through the false wall, and entering—

He feels his mouth go dry as he takes in the sight and memories flood into his mind, going further into the room. These green walls, the paintings, the chandelier, the furniture covered by white sheets— _why is the furniture covered by white sheets?_ —he never thought he’d see it again. “I...I know this place...”

“Looks neo-baroque in here,” he hears Salomé murmur behind him. “What— _ohhhh...”_ She suddenly darts away from him and goes to stand directly at the closest window, closing her eyes, basking in the light of the sun, muttering a “Damn, I’ve gone so pale,” as she stares at her hands. _The sun,_ here in the Devildom—in his own house, no less! How long has this room been in the house?

“This is Lilith’s room from back up in the Celestial Realm,” he says, his voice sounding strangely hollow, and the human turns her face to look at him, face unreadable. “I’m sure of it. What’s Lilith’s room doing here, in the House of Lamentation?” It’s so quiet that one could hear a pin drop.

“Do you...do you want to talk about her now?” Her voice is gentle—not prodding, not demanding, letting him take his time. He finds himself appreciating it. He turns fully to face her from where he’s standing out of reach from the sun’s brightest rays streaming into the room. Salomé...he’s found Salomé to be nice. A good listener, considerate, and respectful of his boundaries. He can tell her. He nods. “Yes.”

“Come into the light, Beel,” she says, holding out a hand to him, her form framed by the sunlight. After a moment, he takes her hand, allowing her to guide him into the warmth of the light. When was the last time he’d felt it on his skin? He looks down at Salomé’s freckled face, patiently staring up at him. In the sunshine, her eyes almost match the green of the walls. “Whenever you’re ready. Remember, no pressure.”

He inhales deeply. After a moment, he feels the time is right. “Like I said before, Lilith was our little sister...but she’s gone now. She died in the Great Celestial War. Do you know about the Great Celestial War? About what happened then?”

Her hand squeezes his own encouragingly. “I know the vague, basic details.”

“Lucifer incited the revolution against our father, and we aligned ourselves with him. Those who followed our father fought against those who followed Lucifer. That was the Great Celestial War. In the end, our father crushed our rebellion, and cast us out of the Celestial Realm. During the battle...” This is always the hardest part. No matter how many times he’s dreamed about it, no matter how many years have passed. He closes his eyes as he discloses the next part to her. “My sister Lilith’s wing was pierced by an arrow. Both Belphie and I saw it. It happened right in front of our eyes…she fell down out of the heavens and…died. Just...” He feels her hands on his face like the night before, and that faint mysterious floral scent returns, but at this moment he couldn’t care less. “Before Lilith was shot, I saw angels from the opposing side draw their bows and aim at both her and Belphie. I couldn’t save them both. The three of us were too far apart. I knew that I’d only be able to get to one of them in time. Then suddenly, Belphie’s eyes met mine...” He feels the human’s thumbs gently swiping under his eyes. “...and just like that, I rushed over to him and shielded him from the attack. I wasn’t able to save Lilith. She died. And it was my fault.”

“...ah...your nightmares...” she murmurs sadly, and his eyes snap open. “Sometimes you make sad noises in your sleep,” she clarifies. She rises slightly, standing on her toes, tugging him down until their foreheads are touching. It’s...nice. She’s a warm presence. “Damn...Beel, you didn’t...you weren’t the one who fired that arrow, you didn’t kill her...”

“Everyone tells me that,” He finds himself saying. “‘You couldn’t help it,’ that’s what they all say…but none of them saw what I saw. They didn’t see how Lilith looked at me as the arrow pierced her wing in the split second before she fell,” He could swear he feels a pair of arms wrapping around his back as if someone is embracing him from behind—but that’s impossible, Salomé is holding his face in her hands. It’s comforting, though, whether it’s real or not, so he’s not exactly going to complain. “They didn’t see that look of despair.” He leans into the touch of her right hand, wrapping his hand around her wrist. “Belphie hasn’t come out and said it, but I think he blames me for not being able to save Lilith. I know he wanted me to save her instead of him...in fact, I knew that at the time, but I chose to save him instead.” The human’s eyes have gone glassy. “Salomé...what would you have done?” She grows very stiff, and the possibly imaginary hug he’s been feeling vanishes. “If you had been in my shoes, who would you have saved, Belphegor or Lilith?”

She winces, lowering herself down to her normal height and removing her left hand from his face (it feels strangely cold without the outside touch). She moves her right hand so as to clutch onto his hand which had been grasping her wrist, staring out into the sunlight.

“I haven’t got any siblings,” Salomé begins. “So, if I’m going to be honest, I don’t know how I’d act in that situation. And I don’t know how non-human twins are, but human ones...they have this sort of mysterious _bond._ Like, they often come up with their own secret languages as children, and if one of them dies, the other always reports feeling like there’s a part of them just...missing. I’ve got a friend, Alexei, back in the human world who’s a twinless twin—his twin died at _birth—_ and I don’t think he’ll _ever_ get over it.” A very brief, sad smile lights up her face. “So...I think that you made the right choice at the moment. And from what you’ve said, I think that she would’ve wanted you to save _Belphegor_ if you had chosen her. There is no—”

Her D.D.D. buzzes, and she sighs as she releases his face, eyes widening when she sees the caller ID and puts it up to her ear. “Mammon—“ His older brother is shouting over the line, and all Beel makes out are the words _dog_ and _Lucifer_ and _kill_ before the line goes dead. His stomach ties into a knot: they’re done for.

 **_“FUCK!”_ ** Salomé shouts, all the color draining from her face and dragging him behind her as runs out of the room the way they came, only pausing to look down each side of the hall in a panic. “Beel, Beel, _fuck,_ which way is the underground tomb? He found Luke!”

“Just follow me!” he shouts, taking the lead and dragging her downstairs, only for her to yelp in pain.

“Shit, ouch, my wrist! Hey, you’re _fucking fast,_ I can’t—”

“We don’t have time!” Beel yells, adrenaline pumping in his veins as he continues to haul her in the direction of the tomb. They’re dead. They’re _so_ dead. He’s gotten out of trouble with Lucifer before, but for something this big... **never.**

She somehow manages to break free, the floral scent briefly flaring into existence, and before he can say anything or even stop running, she _jumps onto his back,_ wrapping her arms around his shoulders. _Huh. Efficient._ He hooks an arm under each of her legs (it’s like holding a couple of grapes, really) and keeps running towards their doom as fast as he can.

* * *

Beel piggyback-carrying her at top speed into the underground tomb that she had no idea existed up until about two minutes ago after pouring his heart out to her about his sister’s death because Luke was about to be murdered was _not_ how Salomé had been expecting to spend her evening, but here she is, and she’s hating every minute of it. For one, Lucifer is in his full demon form, horns and wings out, and secondly, he’s actually full-on _yelling._ She flinches in spite of herself as she frantically taps on Beel’s shoulders, hissing a _“Lemme down,”_ into his hair, which he quickly obliges. _Bad, bad, bad. Bad situation._ She’s quite literally shaking in her boots.

It’s all so **incredibly** loud. The words out of everyone’s mouths are garbled, barely intelligible over the roar of her blood in her ears and how suddenly hard it is for her to breathe among all this _yelling_ , her mind screaming at her to _run and don’t look back._ She finds her gaze darting around aimlessly until she lays eyes on—

 _Oh no. Oh no. Oh_ **_FUCK NO._ **

There’s an effigy of a woman, arms positioned in such a way that would hold a book—the book Luke has, presumably. But that’s not what causes her stomach to turn. It’s the woman’s face—she’d know it anywhere, and the mere sight of it causes bile to rise in her throat, her arms crossed over her stomach, hunched over, cold sweat running down her body.

 _When I briefly, jokingly considered the possibility of seeing you here on my first day in the council chamber, I didn’t expect it to be in this way. Unbelievable. You haunt Outremont for me, and now you have followed me here too? No. You were always here in Hell, ever since that day. I’ve just had the misfortune of seeing your face here and now..._ **_maman._ **

It’s Lucifer’s voice that cuts through the buzzing in her ears, forcing her to tear her eyes away from the stone face she’s never wanted to see again. **“** **_BEELZEBUB!!!!!!! Were you hiding this angel in your room? Did you allow him access to the House of Lamentation? This angel who would try to steal that grimoire?”_ **

“Y-you’ve got it all wrong, I wasn’t trying to steal it at—”

 _Damn, Luke, self-snitching at its finest,_ she thinks, managing to straighten up slightly, already starting to feel better now that she’s not looking at that **fucking statue**. _Too bad it seems important. Given the chance, I’d_ ** _gladly_ **_chisel away at it._

“Hey, idiot! This ain’t no time to be makin’ excuses! Once Lucifer flips out, it’s no use tryin’ to stop him! I mean,” Mammon is _babbling_ now. “There’s one guy who could do it, but—”

 _“Don’t be so sure, Mammon,”_ her friend’s voice hums in her mind, and Salomé suddenly feels the beginnings of adrenaline spiking in her veins, loathing and fear and nausea rapidly fading into the background. _Eh...so it will come to this? He will seriously kill his brother over this miscommunication? Madman. I cannot_ ** _believe_** _this is a more pleasant thing to think about than..._ ** _that._ **

**_“You two had better be ready to face the consequences!”_ ** The roaring of her blood has returned to her ears, although this time it’s brought on by blind anticipation. _“Let’s go. There is no going back from here.”_

 **“Lucifer!”** She finds herself shouting, taking wide strides to where Beel and Luke are bracing themselves, coming to stand in between the raging Lucifer and the shaking Luke clinging to the guilty-faced Beel. _This will be a good angle from which to strike._ **“Have you lost your** **_fucking_ ** **mind?! This is your** **_brother_ ** **we’re talking about here!”**

 _“Salomé?!”_ Mammon shouts in shock. She recalls what he had said to her in her room, that he will save her or no one will. He hadn’t given her an answer when she’d asked him whether or not she was allowed to take care of herself. She doesn’t expect him to save her from Lucifer—that _is_ his elder brother, after all. She suspects at the moment that all she’ll get is this call, a plea for her to stay out of this; but all his call serves to do is make the nausea fade away even faster as she holds up one finger to silence him, allowing a tiny vine to manifest around it for the briefest of seconds before fading again. _You said you can smell her, right? Hope you did just now. So...I hope you know what’s up._

 **“Out of the way, human! Or do you want to die here?!”** _Oh,_ ** _try me, bitch._**

 **“With all due respect,** **_absolutely the fuck not,_ ** **to both questions** ** _._ ** **You’re out of control.”** _Even if I didn’t have a Stand to_ ** _make_ **_him regret this, when the anger faded, I bet Lord Diavolo would ream him out for threatening and killing two of his exchange students._ The agitation she had been feeling upon having seen the effigy is the farthest thing from her mind. Instead, as small flowers appear and fade away all over her body, all she feels is the calm she usually imparts onto others. The blood is still roaring in her ears, but it serves to work with her and not against, her mind focused on this single goal: _get Lucifer to stand down._

“Stop it, Salomé!” Beel’s voice begs from behind her, soon joined by Mammon’s. “C’mon, this is serious! He’s gonna kill you for real!”

She sighs and closes her eyes, raising her arms to rest parallel to her ribs to better shield the angel and the demon. “He forgets himself,” she mutters with a raised eyebrow.

Then, the utter _audacity:_ he asks her to **choose.** Choose who lives or dies, Luke or Beel. **“A human risking so much to defend a demon and an angel…how very interesting...well, if you want to be a hero, you’re going to have to choose one of them to save. Beelzebub or Luke. It’s one or the other. Make your choice!”** is exactly what he says. Perhaps if she’d had less self-restraint, she’d laugh. It’s absurd, really. Are the consequences of killing either of them truly so far from his mind? “Ah. You’re serious...” She looks over her shoulder languidly. Luke is silently shaking, tears streaming down his cheeks as he clings onto an equally silent and tensely stunned Beel, eyes wide. And despite the fact that he’s probably over a thousand years older than her, she feels a wave of pity as one would feel for a suffering child.

 _Luke, I'm so sorry. I know I said I wouldn't tell anyone else, for my own good. And I was planning on doing so, I really was, for the whole year if I had to. Let everyone besides the girls and Mammon think it's just a weird magical charm, or just a strange personality quirk of mine to calm people down. But I can't let him hurt you or Beel. You've both been good to me. You’ve both been open with me. And yet, I'm not going to let him kill me for you. Not without a fight, no. If there ever was a right time to reveal myself,_ **_it’s right the fuck now._ **

_Even if it means exposing my one huge advantage in this world. Once_ **_she_ ** _is revealed to Lucifer, she may as well be revealed to all._

She inhales deeply as she turns back around, closing her eyes, clamping her hands over her ears, steeling herself for what she knows is coming. _Will it be enough? No time to tell._ “Lucifer...I thought you were better than this. But, if you insist, **_lay it on me,”_** she finds herself murmuring.

 **“Speak up, little human.”** She knows if she does not draw soon, she will die. It’s a given. In this tomb, separated from her family and friends, with the accursed statue wearing her dead mother’s face. An absolutely disgusting prospect.

_‘Little human’?...D'accord. Étoile-du-matin, comme tu voudras. Je ne serai pas intimidé. Je ne peux qu’espérer que ce qu’on m’a dit est vrai._

Thus, she opens her eyes, straightens her back, hands still clamped over her ears. _He who does not draw first never draws at all...if this does not work, and I will die here and now..._ ** _why not give them a show to remember?_** The most insolent, absolutely infuriating smile she can muster appears on her face as Salomé tilts her head, calling out loudly and clearly, voice reverberating across the underground tomb:

**_《 J'AI DIT,「 LAY ALL YOUR LOVE ON ME 」, LUCIIIIIIIIFEEEEEER! 》_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **[/ROUNDABOUT BLASTING IN THE DISTANCE]**
> 
> SO. i really wanted to get this chapter out, which is why the update came a lot faster than usual, but i'm sorry to say that the next one won't come till sometime in mid-late december, as uni is really kicking into gear now. thank you all so much for sticking with me!
> 
> « Ouah, quel queutard... » = Wow, what a manwhore...  
> ...D'accord. Étoile-du-matin, comme tu voudras. Je ne serai pas intimidé. Je ne peux qu’espérer que ce qu’on m’a dit est vrai. = Okay. Morningstar, as you like it. I will not be intimidated. I can only hope what I have been told is true.  
> J'ai dit = I said  
> \--
> 
> Stand Name: 「LAY ALL YOUR LOVE ON ME」, usually shortened to 「LOVE ON ME」  
> Music Reference: Lay All Your Love On Me (ABBA song)  
> Stand Master: Salomé Desjardins  
> Namesake: Salomé (U2 song), Desjardins (Ingrid St-Pierre song)
> 
> Destructive Power: B  
> Speed: B  
> Range: B  
> Durability: A  
> Precision: C  
> Developmental Potential: A
> 
> Appearance: 「LOVE ON ME」takes the form of a white, purple-veined humanoid made out of flowering vines. It's slightly larger than Salomé, with a perpetual large purple smile and purple eyes. It has no hair but wears a veil and a long, sleeveless poofy white and purple-veined dress that is actually part of its body. Notably, the body cuts off at the end of the dress and the Stand lacks legs.「LOVE ON ME」can also be partially manifested in the form of said vines with white poppies and nightshade flowers growing on them that Salomé can use as ropes or tentacle-like appendages.
> 
> Stand Ability:
> 
> 1\. Empathy: 「LOVE ON ME」 can unravel part of itself to wrap its vines around a person, allowing Salomé to ascertain their current emotions, with special focus on how calm they are.  
> 2\. Timed Narcoticization: If 「LOVE ON ME」’s vines are wrapped around a subject for two minutes, the subject will enter a relaxed and sleepy state, and any physical pain they are experiencing will fade. Five minutes, the subject will appear to enter a state of intoxication and hallucinatory delirium. Eight minutes with the vines, the subject will fall asleep. Ten minutes with the vines wrapped around them will cause death. Should the vines be retracted and the Stand remains activated before ten minutes, the effects of 「LOVE ON ME」 will remain for either double the time the vines were wrapped around the subject or until Salomé is knocked unconscious (ex. if the vines are removed at 8 minutes the subject will be asleep for 16 minutes).  
> 3\. [REDACTED].
> 
> Weaknesses:
> 
> 1\. Depending on which part of either「LOVE ON ME」or Salomé's body the vines came from, should they be broken, Salomé will take damage in the same area.  
> 2\. Salomé can control the speed of「LOVE ON ME」's effects, though doing so is extremely mentally taxing and requires total concentration on her behalf, thus leaving her extremely vulnerable to outside attacks. On top of that, she can only speed up the effects on one subject, so if others are entangled, they will experience the effects of 「LOVE ON ME」at their normal speed. As a result, she tends to let the vines operate at their normal speed unless in a dire emergency.  
> 3\. [REDACTED].


	9. Clint Eastwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer has the riot act read to him. Salomé has the nagging feeling that she's missing out on something important going on in the human world. [REDACTED] has something to show Salomé. Beel has a new pact. Satan has new ambitions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate summary i didn't use b/c it would have broken the aesthetic-
> 
>  **lucifer:** nooooo i'm the avatar of pride and you are a non-magical little human you can't go up against me when i try to kill you with something i can't see and had no idea about previously!!!11  
>  **salomé, coughing up blood:** haha empathetic tranquilizer flower ghost go brrrr :)
> 
> this chapter goes out to all my anti-lucifer homies...i'm not one of you but when it comes to this lesson you guys made valid points...merry christmas!
> 
> **tw: blood, hallucinations, mentioned gun violence, mentioned neck injury, mentioned eye trauma**
> 
> chapter title comes from the gorillaz song of the same name.

_Salomé,_

_Are you astral projecting? Is that how you dropped all of this off?_

_It doesn’t really matter. What’s important is: I need your help. You were right, Lucifer is the one who put me up here. He doesn’t come and see me, Personally, I’d like to be able to have a proper face-to-face talk with him. We may have had a falling out, but really, it was only a little misunderstanding. If I could just talk with him, he’d realize that was the case._

_Neither of us is capable of opening this door because it’s sealed with a very powerful sort of magic. In order to break the seal, you need the consent of all of my brothers, including Lucifer. You should make pacts with all of them. I’m counting on you to come through for me, Salomé. You’re the only one who can help me now. You’re my sole ray of hope in this bleak, bleak world, because my brothers_ **_can’t_ ** _know I’m up here. The end result of them fighting Lucifer about it could end up destroying both the human world and the Devildom. You’re the only one I can rely on._

_Also, would it be possible for you to get a family pack of sushi through the door?_

* * *

The anger on his face morphs into bewilderment, and she can practically see _You want me to do_ ** _what?_** forming on his lips (something which she's gotten used to—her Stand’s name _is_ a very strange thing to yell at people), and then his eyes go wide with recognition as he realizes just _how_ she said that phrase.

He knows **EXACTLY** what she has. No turning back now.

She's not really shocked—he's been around for thousands of years, surely he's run into at least one other Stand User in his time, especially if Tunrida had. He lunges—a fatal mistake. 「LOVE ON ME」grabs his throat the second he comes into reach, and Salomé’s hand twitches at the shared contact. Already the Stand’s body begins to unravel, binding his legs together, preventing him from coming closer. His wings start beating wildly, achieving liftoff, but it isn’t long at all until his wings are tied to his sides, like a parrot in transport. Her Stand’s free hand then comes up, curled into a fist, and straight-up _decks_ him, _hard._

_What a pretty little blackbird._

She can only _imagine_ how weird this looks to everyone that’s not her or Luke.

The demon wrapped in her Stand is shouting something, his face contorted with rage. And the rage is certainly there, and it brings a whole new type of energy running through her veins _(ah, if his anger is_ **_this_ ** _intense, I wonder what it’s like to read Satan, the Avatar of Wrath?)_ , but it’s certainly not alone. It’s not even the primary emotion. It’s accompanied by shock, incredulity, confusion, dread...and primarily... _mortification,_ his precious pride wounded _._

Some of his words break through the buzzing in her ears and she makes out a **“** — **little human, get what you want?! NO!”** . _Eh, fuck you too!_

 **_《 FAIS-LE TAIRE! 》_ ** It comes out as a roar that even she’s surprised by the volume of. The hand around his throat unravels and several vines from it move to his mouth to gag him while the rest circle his neck, and she twitches at the very particular sense of the back of her wrist being **l** **ightly chewed on**. 

_“Likely something left over from being an angel,”_ 「LOVE ON ME」comments. _“It appears he cannot do any damage, but if he puts enough effort into it, he can make limited physical contact.”_

_If I get a questionable-looking bruise from this, I want you to kill him._

The ground starts shaking, Salomé feeling a very _aggressive_ sort of electricity emanating from him— _magic! I won’t be able to focus like this...I’ll have to wait the two minutes out!_

He’s smart—he doesn’t go for the Stand. He knows he can’t do anything against it. Instead, as she immediately realizes judging from the rise in desperate anger from him, he’s going to throw all of his magic straight at **her.** She moves, then, ducking behind one of the caskets as a blast of magical energy _obliterates_ where she’d just been standing in front of her friends. She sees Luke, Beel, and Mammon opposite to her, huddling behind another coffin. Mammon is shouting something, eyes wide, and she sees Luke’s mouth moving rapidly, and she guesses he’s giving an explanation on how exactly she restrained the Avatar of Pride. Beel, on the other hand, is just staring right at her wide-eyed, lips pressed together in a thin line. _Are you mad at me? Please don’t be mad at me. I’m trying to protect you...you’re a good man, I don’t want you to die here...I’m sorry...please don’t be angry..._

She’s thrown off-guard enough by the look on his face that she doesn’t realize how she’s unconsciously rising, head rising into Lucifer’s line of sight, doesn’t see his next spell coming, and all that hits her is bright white _pain_ . Searing, burning pain. Blood spurts from her nose and out of her mouth as she hits the floor on her back, and the only thing present in her brain is **_stayawakestayawakestayawakestayawakestayawake_ ** —She might be screaming. She might be crying. She might be dying. She doesn’t know. She can’t hear anything or see anything except this blinding **pain.**

Then, the light fades and is replaced with something else, dreamlike and hazy. She still can’t hear anything, but as her eyes dart around, she realizes she knows this scene. A desert town, a group of men facing down a lone one. She had first seen this when she had been too young to understand, yet kept on returning to it as she grew older—a safe escape. The sun is blazing overhead and the wind is strong. Salomé wonders if it would be disrespectful to keep sneaking into Lilith's room for the chance to get some sun. The man in front of the group is firing bullets into the lone one, but he keeps getting up. He always got up and kept walking, something she watched alone on the floor in awe as a little girl while the yelling in the house faded to a faint hum. The lone one is saying words she can’t hear but knows like the back of her hand. _“Your own words, Ramon.”_ She mouths along right with him, unsure if she’s actually making any noise. He keeps getting hit but keeps standing up. She'd always loved how he kept standing up, kept moving. _“The heart, Ramon. Don’t forget the heart.”_ It’s comforting. _“Aim for the heart, or you’ll_ — _”_

Then, a thought in a voice that isn’t hers, or any of the men’s: **_Sorry I’m late._ **

And just like that, the desert mirage fades away, and the searing pain is gone. She’s back in the tomb, and the blood on her face is warm, and she’s pretty sure she half-died for a millisecond, but... _Alive. I’m...I’m still alive!_ A heartbeat, then two. She can feel her Stand as well, still holding onto Lucifer. _Ew, has it really not been two minutes?_ She then rises on shaky legs, staring right at an incredulous Avatar of Pride. She can practically feel his stomach drop in shock, even if it’s not obvious on his face. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see that Mammon’s jaw is practically on the floor. _Not even gonna question it. I can deal with this later._ Then, suddenly, a new sensation.

It feels as if there’s a ghostly hand (and yet, it doesn't feel like a Stand) reaching from behind, taking her chin and gently raising it. Another hand places itself atop her head. _Support._ Once again, she feels that gentle electricity from before, and just like the night she’d been informed of the attic, a thought is almost _planted_ in her mind.

**_I’m on your side._ **

With that reassurance, she raises her eyebrows and shakes her head at Lucifer as she climbs atop the coffin, gasping lightly, tasting the blood in her mouth and dripping from her nose. _I should say something, right...? To fill the silence...it’s too weird just like this...something...something_ ** _cool..._** _um, uh...fuck it, he's not going to get the reference, might as well go for it._ “You...you shoot to **kill**..." She coughs, once, blood splattering against the stone, then looks back at him with that cocky little smile as she stands up straight. _Bet you’ve never had to look up at a human like this, huh?_ _I can feel it, can feel that it’s driving you_ ** _wild!_** "...you better hit the **heart.”**

He tries again, and she feels the ghostly hands on her head grip tighter. This time, she doesn’t dodge the spell. Instead, that gentle electricity both flows throughout her body and in the air around her, and just as the spell is about to hit, for the briefest of moments, an intricate circle of light shields her, and the spell literally _bounces_ off of it. Then, she removes her left hand from her ear (still buzzing) and makes a finger gun down at him, aiming for his own heart. “The heart, Lucifer. Don’t forget the heart.” And he does try, only for that strange light to protect her once more before her Stand’s vines manage to tautly secure his arms behind his back. _Hm. He looks really good like this...eh, that’s fucked up._

It’s clear now, she muses as she puts her hand back on her ear, trying to focus: she will _never_ have this level of the element of surprise against Lucifer ever again. _A shame, what a look._ He keeps struggling, trying with different spells. She keeps being shielded.

But for now... “...aim for the heart, or...you’ll never stop me....” she finds herself giggling out, voice barely above a whisper, her fingers running through her hair that’s closest to her ears and pulling on it. The adrenaline roaring through her body feels incredibly _good_ —almost abnormally so, knowing that she’s successfully gotten the jump on Lucifer himself. _Pépère told me once that some of our family rose to high positions in the Catholic Church,_ she finds herself musing. _Even though in their time, my power would be considered witchcraft...if they’re watching, are they proud of me? The Stand User Tunrida tried to kill, is this how he felt, blessed with this alien power?_ ** _I feel wonderful. I could destroy anyone who crosses my path._** _After all, only a Stand can_ ** _harm_** _another Stand..._

 _Ah, wait. Is this just how he feels all the time? This...pride..._ She feels her back straighten instinctively as she raises her head, the noises—voices, probably—frantically saying something outside of her line of sight fading to a faint hum. _...no wonder it’s a cardinal sin, to feel so_ **_good_ ** _about myself. How very_ **_stimulating._ **

She knows that after she lets him go she’s going to be unsuccessfully chasing this high until the day she dies. He tries to cast that spell one more time, and all she does is raise her eyebrows and spit out more blood in his direction as it bounces off again. _Would this count as a miracle? Am I on the road to sainthood? Nah. The second they hear about Casablanca or Tijuana, that’s down the toilet._

Oz’s booming laugh, thoroughly amused, rings through her mind. She grins in spite of the situation. _Oh, he’s gonna get such a kick out of this when I tell him...ah, he’ll just groan and drag me if I tell him all I did was spout_ **_that_ ** _at_ **_the_ ** _Lucifer himself...can’t have that!_

“I know that this must be a very strange experience for you, and I am sorry about its abruptness,” she begins, spitting out some last remnants of blood. She has the feeling that whoever is shielding her is also fixing up her damaged insides—it's getting much easier to breathe. “And to be perfectly honest, I really did _not_ want to sic _her_ on you. But in all your _infinite_ wisdom, you immediately jumped to murder as a solution to all of this. **Fratricide,** no less! You didn’t let anyone get a word in edgewise, and both Beel and Luke would’ve been dead right now if I didn’t pull this little stunt.” She clicks her tongue against her bloodied teeth, shaking her head. He's not trying the hexes anymore. _“Shame._ But you see, I’m not really **_mad,_ ** no, not at all. You know what I am?” She pauses for the answer she’s not going to get and then swipes at the blood from her lips with her thumb with her right hand. **_“Disappointed. I’m not angry, just disappointed._ ** Let’s review: Luke is staying with Beel and I. Bad, I know, and I apologize, but this is still an extreme overreaction. Luke gets magicked down here somehow, someway, I don’t know, **who** I’m using on you now isn’t magical so it’s not my forte. Luke picks up the grimoire. He doesn’t know what it is or what it does, he’s just curious. Somehow that thing calls you and Mammon here. You go apeshit. You’re about to **fucking kill him.** You’re about to fucking kill your own little brother— _your baby brother!_ —along with him. And then, finally, me. You’re about to **kill me,** and for some reason you just expected me to **_sit there and take it like a little old bitch,_ **and now here we are, you’ve been—”

 _“We have company, you know,”_ 「LOVE ON ME」states, turning her head to the side. Salomé takes this opportunity to see through her Stand's eyes, and the arrogance she's absorbed grows tenfold.

 _Oh,_ **_perfection._ **

“—restrained by a _little human,_ as you oh-so **eloquently** defined me as, in front of _multiple people_ , because you let your emotions get the better of you and bypassed all logical thought to go straight to murder! Tsk, tsk. **So tell me, Lucifer—was it worth it?** Was attempting fratricide and threatening Luke and I with death over a misunderstanding worth _this?_ Was hitting me with those spells, which I’m guessing were meant to **kill** me—” she juts her chin forward, drawing attention to her bloody lower face “—worth _this?_ Don’t give me that look. I’m embarrassed **for** you. Actually...I’m not sure.” The insolent grin across her lips turns outright vicious. “These ‘emotions’, this **_embarrassment_** I’m feeling...all **yours.** Every little thought and impulse running through that head of yours—I can feel the ‘emotion’ behind it...and in this way, it has become ‘mine’...” She trails off. The effect of her Stand reverberates through Lucifer’s body, and the sluggish calm becomes his primary emotion. “Ah. The tranquilizer has kicked in, hasn’t it? Feel familiar? I used it for your headache once. I’m surprised you didn’t catch it then, to be honest. This is my ‘ability’, you see, what we in the human world call a ‘Stand’: ** _「LAY ALL YOUR LOVE ON ME」._** And in a way, you have. Funny, isn’t it?”

She’s made a lot of stupid decisions in the past week. This will be one of them. Salomé hops from coffin to coffin with a dancer’s grace until she reaches the one closest to Lucifer, removing her hands from her ears and placing them behind her back as she leans forward in his direction. Strangely enough, she still can’t hear anything around her, but that’s not important. His mortification is practically **burning.** _That’s the funny thing about empathy,_ she muses. _People call themselves empaths and think it’s a sunshine-and-rainbows type of ability to understand how others feel and make them feel better. They never acknowledge the other side of the coin. To be a true, successful empath is to understand how others feel...and then use that knowledge for whatever the situation calls for, and know when to distance oneself in the process. To_ **_raise up_ ** _or to_ **_simply raze._ **

“Now, you’re _way_ _too fucking old_ to be throwing a tantrum of this nature. You're what, over ten thousand years old and have to be put into time-out by me, a 22-year-old _little human_? What kind of toddler shit is this? Can we sit down at a table and talk this out instead of resorting to violence, now that you’re sedated? You know, like **mature** **adults?”**

He’s blinking rapidly as if trying to stay awake. He’s trying to break through the calm that’s been imparted onto him, but whether it’s his pride that she’s absorbed or just intuition on her part, she knows he won’t. Then, she feels the hand on her head slowly tilt her chin upwards to stare at the ceiling, and it feels as though she’s just broken through the surface of a turbulent sea.

_Thank you for stopping him. I’m so sorry. He’s not...usually like this._

That current of gentle electricity has returned, a hum in her ears. “ _What are you?”_ She thinks back.

_A spirit._

_“You’re the one who told me to go to the attic, aren’t you?”_

_Yes._

_“Are you like...my guardian angel? Are you what made me only bleed, and not die?”_

There’s slight laughter. _I suppose I could be your guardian angel. And yes, that is my work._

_“Well, show yourself, then, so I may thank you properly.”_

_...are you sure about that?_

_“Why would I not be?”_

_You won’t like what you see._

_“Please? If you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong with you, I’m sure I can handle it. Only to me, not to the rest. I feel like we should talk.”_

Then the face appears above her own, and any semblance of control she had over her nausea or over the situation is absolutely thrown to the wind. Everything is suddenly all so incredibly loud once again, and she can’t fucking _breathe,_ and she’s only vaguely aware of the way she can feel the color drain from her face as she begins to sway. The last thing she sees is that **fucking face—** the effigy’s face, her mother’s face—twist in sadness and pity before she hits the ground.

* * *

She wakes up with a start, standing and staring up at the gorgeous orange, pink, and purple tail end of a sunset. She tries to move, only to fall on her butt when she realizes whatever she’s standing on is _moving._ After a moment, she realizes that the thing she’s landed on is the roof panel of a pickup truck. A look at the rapidly passing surroundings tells her they’re on an empty road (California, she’s pretty sure)—and then a look downwards tells her that she’s sitting on the roof panel of a dark blue pickup truck. _Fernando Rabanne’s_ pickup truck. California indeed!

(Salomé got to know the truck bed floor pretty _intimately_ when they were in high school, but that’s not a polite thing to think about considering last she heard, Fernando is soon to be a married man.)

She crawls to the edge of the left side of the roof and moves to look down through the window—Fernando’s driving with a young man she doesn’t know sleeping in the shotgun seat. Her friend’s jaw is clenched tight, his dark eyes sharp and thoughtful behind his aviators. A glance towards the truck’s GPS tells her they’re going to... _Tijuana?...good times, heh._ She looks back at Fernando, only to feel her mouth go dry at something she hadn’t noticed before.

His neck is freshly wrapped in bandages like he’d had his throat cut. He’s a Stand User too, danger isn’t new to him, and Salomé _knows_ this, but she feels her stomach constrict with worry all the same. The man sleeping next to him is wearing a black tank top, and she can see that his entire upper arm is also bandaged.

“Fernando...” He doesn’t even look in her direction. She reaches one hand in and pokes his head. “Fernando...hey, hey, FERNANDO!” His head doesn’t even move as she starts pushing the side of it. Grabbing onto the roof with her free hand so she won’t fall, she grabs at his black curls with her other hand and whistles a few bars of ‘Little Green Bag’, and...

...absolutely no reaction. _Seriously? He’s lost his taste for Tarantino? Never thought I’d see the day._ He doesn’t even flinch. It’s now that her stomach drops as a new possibility enters her mind: _am I_ **_dead?_ ** _Wow, that’s just...embarrassing. Massively embarrassing. Held my own against the Avatar of Pride only to die from shock at the sight of a ghost. At least I went out a legend._ She stares at Fernando’s face for a few moments longer, watching the light of the setting sun dance across his face. _Well, if I did die, at least I’m haunting a friend in the human world...and even if I’m not dead, I would rather stay here than deal with the shitshow..._

There’s a groan from the back of the truck. She moves up so she’s no longer looking into the driver’s side window and crawls over to the side of the roof facing the truck bed floor. There are three people sitting up who she doesn’t know, all asleep. There’s also a puddle of water near the front of the truck that mysteriously doesn’t seem to move or get any smaller, and she smiles at the sight—it means Oz is here. She then looks directly downwards, and there he is—

All of her excitement at the possibility of seeing her friend again is replaced by mind-numbing dread. He’s lying down on the floor, the first few buttons of his shirt are undone, he’s sweating, teeth grit, and he’s got a bandage wrapped tightly over the left side of his face—particularly, his eye. Dried blood is seen through the bandage, and it’s painfully obvious as to what’s happened.

Her **best friend** has had one of his eyes—his bright blue, smiling eyes— **gouged out,** or otherwise injured, but it doesn’t really matter how: what’s important is the mere evidence is that someone’s mutilated him in some capacity.

White-hot rage fills her veins as she grits her teeth at how tightly his one remaining eye is clenched in pain. _Who did this?_ Of course, judging by the fact that he’s alive, and Fernando is still alive, whoever did this to him has already been taken care of. She knows her friends well—they’d never settle for running away with their tails between their legs. 

Then, sinking regret: _where was I when this was happening? Running around in Hell, generally enjoying myself, going to some useless-ass demon university. I’m not even gonna use anything I learned there in the human world! And while I was in the process of wasting a whole year of my life, I wasn’t_ **_there_ ** _to help my friends out. Oz...you sly Alain Delon-looking motherfucker...I’m so sorry. I can’t even ease your pain...something’s going on, isn’t it? You’re going to Tijuana to find something_ — _or_ **_someone..._ ** _and here I am, being useless! I can’t do anything! I can’t even talk to you! What if this is the last..._

She hears it then. A feminine gasp, coming from the closest corner of the truck bed. She turns to look—

Beatrice, her Beatrice, alive. She’d had pictures of course, and her memory (and Satan, which she would rather gladly not delve too far into), but nothing can compare to this. Golden-haired and lightning-scarred as the day she’d disappeared. She’s a bit paler now, a bit thinner, but there’s no doubt. And what’s more, Salomé realizes, unlike Fernando, **Beatrice is able to see her.**

Wide oceanic eyes stare into her own for what feels like an eternity, and she’s not sure whether to cry or to embrace the other. _Can_ she even embrace her if she’s dead? Or would it be like the temperature-less, airy touch of her mother’s pauper in the tomb?

Beatrice makes the first move. The other young woman _lunges_ at her with a cry, and she finds herself jumping away in surprise—and then she trips over Oz, and Oz is screaming bloody murder, and Fernando fucking **swerves** the car, and before she knows it, she’s fucking falling off the roof, and all the noise is garbled and unintelligible—

**_“—INFERNO」!”_ **

_WHAT._

A black and blue figure then appears at her ex-girlfriend’s side. Its skin looks like it’s made of blue lava and obsidian, and Salomé notices as it reaches for her that it looks like it’s literally _smoking._ The people who were previously sleeping are now standing, and Oz is clearly still disoriented, holding onto the side of the truck for dear life, and they’re all staring wide-eyed in her direction. There’s only one thought in her mind as she falls away from the truck before being enveloped in blackness.

 _When the_ **_fuck_ ** _did Bice get a Stand?_

* * *

Now, her eyes open when she detects the scent of sea salt. The sun is warm on her skin, and she’s looking out onto a shining blue ocean. She’s standing on a grassy cliff overlooking the sea. _The Mediterranean,_ she realizes after a moment. There are boats moored by the beach, and people by the sea, and she can make out some buildings. She wants to move her head to see the rest of the settlement—only to find herself unable to, no matter how hard she tries, and panic begins to course through her veins. Instead, through someone else’s volition, she finds herself looking down, hands grasping at a long, colorful skirt to examine her clothes. _Alright,_ **_wow,_ ** _that’s a low neckline._ Then, her thoughts freeze—her hands, her exposed chest, are much paler than she knows, and are noticeably absent of freckles.

_This...this isn’t my body!_

A shout comes from behind ‘her’, and ‘she’ turns around to see a man running to greet her, a wide smile plastered across his face. _Decent face. Looks like a soldier. Hmm, not bad, not bad at all..._ ‘She’ finds herself calling out a greeting as well _(not my voice!)_ beginning to approach him. Salomé’s just along for the ride at this point. When they finally meet, he grabs at both of ‘her’ hands and plants a kiss on each one. _Oh wow, it’s like_ **_that._ **He says something in some language she doesn’t know, but she doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, as everything fades away as a lapis lazuli-blue shadowy figure veined with gold halfway manifests at his back, smiling down at her along with its master.

_...how?...a Stand User...?_

* * *

Unfortunately, when her eyes open this time, it’s to Beelzebub and Belphegor’s ceiling. “...eh, fuck...” She makes a mental note to ask Solomon if there’s anything she can do to her phone so she can contact the human world. _Fuck_ whatever deep shit she’s just gotten into for giving Lucifer a piece of her mind and using her Stand on him, her ex-high school-boyfriend-slash-friend-with-benefits has his throat cut, her best friend is missing an eye, and her ex-girlfriend is not only _alive_ but has a Stand. Of course, it could have just been a very hyper-realistic dream, like whatever that Greek sequence was, but then again, better safe than sorry. She never asked to be dragged down here in the first place, this damn program can afford to be shoved down her list of priorities.

“...Salomé! You’re awake!”

 _Oh, right._ After a moment, her eyes move to see Beelzebub sitting on the edge of the bed. She also notes that her sweater is gone, and Beel has a small pile of bloody tissues nearby. _Hoodie’s probably in the laundry, and he must’ve cleaned me up._ “...uh...bonjour-hi, Beel.”

“...you... **stopped** Lucifer. **_And_ ** survived the hexes he kept casting,” he says finally, voice both awed and apprehensive. She notes that their hands are very close together, though not touching as if he’s afraid「LOVE ON ME」will automatically come out swinging if they come into contact. “Do you remember...?”

“Clear as day,” she replies, sitting up to grab at her bottle of water on his nightstand and chugging half of what’s left. Yes, it’s been there for two days. No, she doesn’t really care. “...are you mad at me? I...understand if you are...you’ve been so nice to me, and here I go screaming at your brother in front of everyone and using my power on him...”

The orange-haired demon stares at her for an uncomfortably long amount of time before shaking his head. “...you _protected_ me with your life, Salomé. I can’t be mad at you for that. A human stepping in to shield a demon from harm, and actually _succeeding_...I’ve never ever heard of anything like that before...”

“ **Fuck** if you’re a demon and I’m a human,” she interjects sternly, placing the bottle back down and grasping his hand. “Demon, human, angel, whatever the fuck. You’ve been kind and open with me. I think of you as my **friend.** I’m going all the way for you no matter **what,** especially if you’re in danger. Remember what I said last night?”

He looks surprised, and then his head lowers slightly. “...You said if things went south, you’d be with me.”

“Exactly. And if that means revealing my power and getting hurt in the process, so be it. I’d do it a thousand times over...” Her eyes drift away from his, landing on Belphegor’s closet, at the sight of which she practically jumps up. “SHIT, where’s Luke?—ah, my head...”

Beel maneuvers her so she’s lying back down. “Simeon came along with Lord Diavolo to take him back to Purgatory Hall. He’s shaken up...”

“Poor kid. Why was Lord Diavolo with Simeon?”

“He came to stop Lucifer and save us...but then you took care of that for him.”

She can’t help but let out an amused snort in spite of the situation. “Well...glad to be of service, I guess.” 

They sit in awkward silence for several long moments before he hesitatingly breaks it.

“Luke said you’re a...Stand User?”

She nods. “Yes...” There’s a tugging at the part of her subconscious where her Stand resides. “...ah, she wants to meet you. You won’t be able to hear anything she says, so she’ll have to touch you, would you be okay with that?”「LOVE ON ME」manifests at her side, and Beel visibly flinches and straightens up at what she’s guessing is the scent. There’s a little pang in her chest at the sight. _No, no, don’t be scared..._

“Hey, woah, she’s not...she’s not going to hurt you. She’s _me,_ after all.”

Beel’s eyebrows shoot up. _“She’s you?”_ he echoes.

“Er...technically. There are different interpretations of what exactly Stands are in relevance to their user...one of them is that they’re like...a physical manifestation of our souls. So...she’s me...and yet _not,_ because she’s conscious...I’m not too sure of the truth myself. All I know is that she’s a part of me.”

He’s silent for a few seconds before nodding. “Okay. I want to meet her too.”

「LOVE ON ME」then floats over to him, pausing for a moment, and then lightly taps him on the arm. The demon’s eyes go wide and his mouth opens slightly, and he attempts to grab at the Stand, only for his hands to phase through her form. The Stand then proceeds to pat his head reassuringly, just like with Mammon, and both his head and hands shoot up at the sensation.

Salomé giggles. “Sorry...that’s a weird thing about Stands. They can interact with the world around them, but the world can’t interact back. Think of her as a ghost, if you will.”

He keeps staring up in wonder as 「LOVE ON ME」reaches down and pokes the middle of his chest. “...your ghost?”

“My ghost, yeah. I guess.” _Sounds morbid like that...funny. If I didn’t have this ghost, I would actually_ **_be_ ** _a ghost right now._

“Um...Salomé...what’s her name again?”

“You can call her 「LOVE ON ME」.”

“「LOVE ON ME」,” Beel repeats in a soft, fascinated tone. He holds out his free hand in the air, and it takes a moment for Salomé to realize what he’s trying to do. When her Stand places her palm in his open hand, he takes a deep breath. “「LOVE ON ME」, Salomé...thank you both for saving me back there. Last night, you said that you were with me if things got bad...when you said it, I just thought you were trying to make me feel better. I didn’t...I didn’t take it seriously. But then you _kept_ that promise. You did something I don’t know if I myself could do...”

She grins, and 「LOVE ON ME」squeezes his hand with her ghostly fingers. “I’m a woman of my word. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“...but you got _hurt,_ I _watched_ you get hurt,” he says, slightly squeezing her real hand while trying to grasp at her Stand’s. “You won at the end, but you got _hurt,_ for me and Luke...” The demon’s eyes search her face, and then something clicks. “You _knew_ you could get hurt. I don’t get it, why? Even though you knew you could get hurt, why did you protect us?”

“I told you. You’re my friend, and I’m going all the way for you. I have this Stand, this _gift,”_ she says, and「LOVE ON ME」moves the hand that’s not grasping his to his face “—which allows me to do something like that, protecting an angel and a demon from an even stronger demon. And if I can use that gift to help out my friends, damn, I’ll do it in a heartbeat. I wasn’t just going to sit there and take it. And besides, don’t tell Lucifer, I think he’ll get even bitterer than he probably is right now—” She sits up, holding her free hand up to her face to conspiratorially stage-whisper:

 **_“_ ** — **_I’ve had worse than this.”_ **

Beel’s eyes widen at that, and he tenses for a brief second before relaxing. “...Ah. I’m your friend, so that’s why you used your power...”

“Yep.”

“As I watched you there sleeping,” he begins after a beat, “As I looked at your face, I couldn’t help wondering…if the situation had been reversed, would I have stepped in to protect you? When you said you were with me, I didn’t say it back...I want to do something to make it up to you—to thank you for saving me...so, is there anything I can do?”

She stares at him. She sees Fernando with his slit throat, eyes steady on the empty road before him. She sees Oz with blood peeking through the bandage across where his eye was, teeth clenched in pain. She sees Beatrice, pale and wide-eyed, the light of the Californian sunset causing her blonde hair to glint like gold. _Gold in the hills._ And finally, she remembers Belphegor’s response, currently sitting under the mattress she’s lying on.

She comes to a decision.

“Don’t feel obligated. However, if you insist, I’d like to propose a **partnership.** ” 「LOVE ON ME」 vanishes, and Salomé holds out both of her hands to him, palms up. Beel’s eyes widen, and then harden, as he realizes what she’s asking for.

“So, you’ve made pacts with Mammon and Leviathan, and now you want to make one with me. Why are you so interested in making pacts with demons, huh? I want to know why you want to make a pact with me. Let’s hear it.”

_Ugh, I need a smoke._

“There are two reasons, really. Remember when I said I know you have nightmares? I promise this is relevant.”

He nods, uncertainty evident in his face.

“In the past few days since we’ve been rooming together, have you woken up from them feeling...calmer than you usually do?”

Beel nods again, and it doesn’t take long for the realization to click as his mouth falls open. “Did...did you use 「LOVE ON ME」to try to make me calm down...? To stop my nightmares?”

“Guilty as charged. Anybody who gets wrapped up in my vines gets tranquilized, and I did the same for you. But see, er, there’s a little side effect to that. I said it to Lucifer back in the tomb—I can feel the emotions of others. And...” She shakes her head. “Whenever I used her on you when you were dreaming...I can’t even describe it. I felt your grief, Beel, and _holy shit_ . It’s yours, but every time you had a nightmare and I went to calm you down, it became mine. **You made me cry,** you know that? I’m not a crier. I cried your tears for you. I’ve had my Stand ever since I was born, I’ve been reading people’s emotions and calming them down ever since I learned to use her, and I’ve _never_ cried for somebody else. It’s a weird feeling...and after the first time, I decided that I wanted to help you.”

She takes a sip from her water bottle. “I went looking for you the other day, and found you talking with Lucifer. You want to have Belphie back and for him and Lucifer to make up. Isn’t that right?” Another nod. “Then, I want to help you see that day. Let’s be real here: if Lucifer already decided he didn’t like me when I was complicit in hiding Luke, I know now he must _hate_ me now for successfully stopping him _and_ gagging him in front of his boss. He’s not the type to respect someone who beats him, his pride is far too great, I gathered that much from reading his emotions. And he didn’t listen to you, his own brother...do you see where I’m going with this?”

“You...want Lucifer to respect you, even though you’re a human? So you can try to talk to him about making up with Belphie?”

Salomé nods. “I’m not stupid enough to think it’s going to be easy. But I’ve seen and felt enough. I want to do this for you.” 

_(And out of spite. ‘Little human.’ Suck my dick, Lucifer. I hope what just happened is one of those embarrassing memories that end up haunting you at 3 am when you try to sleep.)_

“Because we’re friends?”

“Yes. And because I want to see you happy.”

“What’s the second reason?”

 _Ah, how to phrase this..._ “...see, as you know, I wasn’t expecting to be dragged down here,” she begins. “I was actually on my way to do something very important when I was summoned. And while my time down here has been pretty positive overall, my disappearance has come with unforeseen consequences for my friends up in the human world. Something’s happening up there, something _big,_ they’re getting _hurt,_ and _I’m not around to help._ I can’t even _talk_ to them and figure out what exactly is going on. When I head back at the end of the year, I’d really appreciate it if you’d lend me your strength, **as my friend and as a partner** , to help me help them. I...I kinda feel like I owe them.”

Beel looks thoughtful. “You want Lucifer to be impressed so that he’ll understand that you’re actually someone worth listening to, despite the fact that you’re human? You want to do what even Solomon hasn’t been able to accomplish?”

A snort. “I’ve already beaten Solomon in the Stand respect. I do like him, but I’m willing to beat him in this respect too. Again, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to—”

“I’ll do it,” the Avatar of Gluttony says suddenly, decisively. “I want Belphegor and Lucifer to make up, and I want to help you help others. So, I’ll make a pact with you...” He puts his hands on top of hers so their palms are touching. “...Salomé...” Again, words in an unknown language, and electricity tingling on her stomach, above her navel. 

“Thank you.”

They sit like that in silence for a few more moments before Salomé pulls one hand away and grabs her water bottle again. _I’ll have to text Solomon tonight, see if there’s anything I can do to my phone...and then we can take care of it in between classes tomorrow._

“Salomé...back in Lilith’s room. That was 「LOVE ON ME」hugging me from behind, wasn’t it?”

She grins wickedly. “Perhaps.”

* * *

Satan... **_is having the time of his life._ **

Of course, as always, he’s angry. Angry that he wasn’t the one to fight Lucifer and actually succeed in restraining him. Angry that the human didn’t bite the bullet and just outright try to kill him when she had the chance. Angry that she’d apparently _fainted_ before anything else could happen. Angry that he apparently didn’t see the whole thing. Angry that he didn’t get to _film_ the whole thing. 

(He did catch most of her speech, though. He couldn’t have asked for better blackmail material.)

That doesn’t mean the fiasco in the underground tomb was something regrettable. To see Lucifer caught off-guard and talked down to by a **human,** his pride practically being crushed underneath her rose-embroidered boots, and in front of _Lord Diavolo_ no less? He’ll be savoring the sight for the next 500 years.

He hasn’t interacted with her much, but from what he’s gathered, she’s overall agreeable. Polite and decently cultured, yes, and thankfully not easily influenced by the ever-clingy Mammon—but otherwise average. This whole ‘Stand’ situation is, to put it lightly, an intriguing surprise.

_What’s that old human saying? ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’?_

He knocks on the twins’ door for the sake of politeness and then swings the door open without waiting for an answer. Beel is sitting on the edge of his bed, and the human, cleaned up of all the blood, is drinking from a water bottle. They’re holding hands. There’s no trace of the fast-talking, vindictive woman from the underground tomb—she looks perfectly peaceful.

_‘The Duality of Man’, the human philosophers call it._

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, drawing both of their attention to him. As he approaches, he notes the magical energy in the air has changed. They must have made a pact. First Mammon, which was understandable, then Levi, which was out of spite (which he can also understand), but now Beel? Is she planning something? He doesn’t really care, at least not right now. There are much more pressing matters to tend to. “How are you feeling, Salomé?”

“I...I feel like I should be asking you that,” the human murmurs as he approaches her, coming to stand next to his younger brother. Said brother nods in agreement. Satan’s brow furrows. “What do you mean? I’m not the one who bled and fainted.”

“I mean...you’re practically _glowing._ You look like you’re about to start doing cartwheels. Hell—” He feels something faintly wrap around his wrist “—you _feel_ like you’re about to start doing cartwheels!”

“She’s right, Satan,” Beel adds. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen you in such a good mood.”

He decides to ignore their wonder at his disposition, instead electing to focus on the invisible thing wrapped around his wrist. The Avatar of Wrath attempts to touch the thing with his free hand, only to find himself unable to. “This thing you’ve got around my wrist...it’s called a Stand, right?”

“Oh, is she bothering you? I’m sorry.” _She? Is her ‘Stand’ sentient?_ The thing around his wrist vanishes. “But, yes, no use in hiding her now. I’m what’s known as a Stand User.”

“Interesting,” Satan hums, putting a hand on his hip. “Why do they call these...entities Stands?”

“W...well, because they usually manifest... _stand-ing_ at the User’s side...oh, don’t give me that look. It wasn’t my idea!”

“It _does_ make sense, it’s just...kind of cliche...were you born with a Stand?”

“Yeah—hey, wait. Did Lucifer send you to interrogate me or something?” He has to bite back the urge to roll his eyes. _As if._ “You all know that I have a Stand now, so there’s no point in hiding...see, they’re a secret in the human world to everyone who doesn’t have one or work with people who do, so that’s why I didn’t say anything...but now, I’ll tell as much about them as I know out of my own free will.” 

“I’m here of my own accord, Salomé. Though, I have to admit, Lucifer and Lord Diavolo are probably going to have a whole litany of questions for you too.”

She groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Is Lord Diavolo still here?”

He nods. “He and Lucifer immediately went to Lucifer’s study to talk. He’s probably going to come looking for you once they’re done.” Next to him, his younger brother tenses noticeably, at which Salomé frowns and squeezes his hand. “Ah...best we get it over with then, huh?” She swings her legs over the side of the bed, and Beel helps her stand. “Are you sure?” he asks quietly, to which she nods. “Like I said—no point in hiding anymore.” The three then exit the room, Beel holding onto her left hand and Satan at her right side.

“So, Salomé,” Satan starts again. He can’t help himself, really. “Was he being tranquilized the whole time?”

“Yeah, slowly. It only really kicked in at two minutes.”

“So that’s why he didn’t break free...”

“Ah, no. See, the only thing that can harm a Stand is another Stand. Since Lucifer doesn’t have a Stand, he can’t do anything against mine. That’s why—” she turns to Beel “—as you saw down there, he was casting hexes on _me_ , and not my Stand. She’s invulnerable to him. I—as in, my physical body—on the other hand, am not, just like the average human.”

 _He can’t do_ **_anything_ ** _against it no matter what...? What happened there wasn’t just a fluke?_

(He remembers some lines from a human play he once read which bears her name: _“Salomé, Salomé, dance for me. I pray thee dance for me.”_ )

“Are all Stand Users born with their Stands?” he asks casually as they make their way downstairs. 

“No. Some people get them later in life. But the person—actually, no, I’m misspeaking. There have been cases of animals getting Stands as well. The...subject, I guess—gah, so clinical—has to come into contact with the initiating agent, and most subjects that do, don’t survive. It’s ‘survival of the fittest’, you know?”

As if today couldn’t get any more **interesting.**

He is interested in this phenomenon by itself, of course. He doesn’t recall ever hearing of anything like this before—although, now that he thinks about it, it certainly explains some things he’s seen in the human world that he had previously simply chalked up to some sort of magic. It’s exciting to learn about something he had no idea previously existed, especially when the source at hand is so willing to divulge information.

But that’s not the primary thing that’s driving his quest for knowledge.

A Stand **stopped** Lucifer. Not only stopped him, but held him in place and forced him to listen to ‘her’ master drag him through the mud, and then _tranquilized_ him on top of everything else. _Is her Stand out now?_ He can’t help but wonder. _Is she aware of the magnitude of what she’s done?_ Greed is not something he feels often; no, he’s more inclined to leave that to the household moron, but he certainly feels it rising in him as they make their way to the library and he keeps glancing over at her. 

His hatred of Lucifer is unchanging and strong as it’s ever been, but he always knew that from a realistic standpoint based on their strength alone, he doesn’t stand a chance against his progenitor. He’s always had to make do with underhanded pranks and assorted inconveniences. Until now. 

At their cores, humans are easy to please. He’ll get this young woman anything she desires, even if it’s a pact with him if she’ll be willing to teach him all she knows, to work with him...and then help him come into contact with this ‘initiating agent’ and **try to manifest his own Stand,** something that Lucifer cannot fight against. Judging by what he managed to hear of her tirade in the tomb, she doesn’t exactly have a high opinion of his oldest brother at the moment. It’s almost _too_ perfect of a situation for him. All he has to do is pull the strings a little more.

Maybe Lord Diavolo’s exchange program has some real merit outside of just another idealistic whim after all.

_(“By my life, by my crown, by my gods. Whatsoever you desire I will give it you, even to the half of my kingdom, if you will but dance for me. O, Salomé, Salomé, dance for me!”)_

They enter the library. Asmo and Mammon turn their heads immediately, opening their mouths, doubtless to start peppering Salomé with questions—only to shut them when the secret door opens and Lucifer and Diavolo emerge. The Demon Prince looks neutral, meanwhile, Lucifer looks _extremely_ bitter when his eyes land on them. Like an angry kicked dog.

Maybe Satan _will_ start doing cartwheels after all.

At his side, Salomé releases Beel, claps her hands once, and takes the lead. “Well then. I do suppose it’s time for some **proper introductions,** no?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _tfw you're missing out on the bizarre adventure cause you got dragged to demonic university :(_
> 
> 《 FAIS-LE TAIRE! 》 = SHUT HIM UP!  
> Pépère = grandpa
> 
> the scene salomé hallucinates in the desert town and the lines about aiming for the heart are from "a fistful of dollars"! the whole trilogy is great.
> 
> also yes, beatrice is named beatrice and her stand has inferno in its name b/c divine comedy. i couldn't resist.
> 
> \--
> 
> Stand Name:「[???] INFERNO」  
> Music Reference: ???  
> Stand User: Beatrice “Bice” Morricone  
> Namesake: Beatrice (The Divine Comedy character), Ennio Morricone (Italian composer)
> 
> Destructive Power: B  
> Speed: A  
> Range: C  
> Durability: B  
> Precision: A  
> Developmental Potential: C
> 
> Appearance: 「??? INFERNO」takes the form of a black and electric blue humanoid of Beatrice's height and build. Its skin resembles blue lava (insert link), and it wears obsidian 'clothes' reminiscent of a Roman soldier. It has obsidian eyes and is constantly emanating white smoke.
> 
> Stand Ability:
> 
> 1\. [REDACTED].  
> 2\. [REDACTED].  
> 3\. [REDACTED].
> 
> Weaknesses:
> 
> 1\. [REDACTED].  
> 2\. [REDACTED].


	10. Which Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has questions. Beatrice has a surprise phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before i start this off— **thank you all so much for 100+ kudos and all your kind comments/subs/bookmarks!** i'm shook that so many of you like this little work of mine, fr. i'm sorry this chapter is kinda late, exposition through dialogue has always been a bitch for me to write.
> 
> **very minor chapter 16 spoilers.**
> 
> chapter title is from the florence + machine song of the same name.

_ “...hey, Diavolo.” _

_ He turns to his friend with raised eyebrows. “Yes?” _

_ “Look at this. One sheet landed right at my feet...hmm...Salomé, is it?” Lucifer pauses for a moment, looking over the profile, then nods, satisfied. “Alright, done! Decision made...this is the one.” _

_ Diavolo raises an eyebrow, holding out his hand. Considering how much Lucifer had slaved over selecting a candidate, his sudden approval of a random one is surprising. “Who? Let me see...” Lucifer hands over the file. The picture that comes with it is of a young woman giving a lopsided smile to the camera as she leans back against a wall with her arms folded over her chest. She has long, dark gray hair (the same shade as the ends of Lucifer’s hair, he realizes), bright green eyes, sharp features, and a  _ **_lot_ ** _ of freckles. _

**Name:** Salomé Desjardins

**Race:** Human

**Age:** 22

**Birthday:** January 22nd

**Languages:** French, English, Spanish, Italian

**Magical Proficiency:** N/A

_ Everything else is irrelevant. “Hmm...yes, good. Seems like a good choice to me. At least she appears very different from Solomon.” _

_ “Except for her  _ **_name._ ** _ Look at it more, you barely even glanced at the file.” _

_ “I don’t need to, do I? After all,  _ **_you_ ** _ chose this human. I trust your judgment.” _

_ “There you go buttering me up again...” _

_ “Hmm...Salomé...” He steals a look at her freckled face again. There’s something about her...could it be? He’s going to have to check, just to be sure, but his gut is telling him he’s right. “I have a feeling this human is going to bring real progress to the Devildom!” _

_ Lucifer sighs and shakes his head. “You do realize that I based my choice on that particular file landing at my feet, right?” _

_ “Nothing that happens in this world is a coincidence. It’s all fate, and it was meant to be. That’s what I believe, personally.” _

_ “Well, let’s hope you’re right...” _

* * *

**“Did you know?”** is what Lucifer asks him when the Avatar of Pride has finished apologizing for threatening Luke, Beel, and Salomé. The Demon Prince would have likely given him a much stronger talking-to had Salomé not essentially (albeit, much more aggressively than he would have) said everything he had been planning on (he’s also mentally filed away  _ “I’m not angry, just disappointed” _ to use for later).

Diavolo finds himself shaking his head. “No,” he admits. The gut feeling he had experienced back when he had first seen the human’s face had been confirmed when he had gone back to the Demon Lord’s castle that night and asked Barbatos. How she had been protected from all the hexes Lucifer had been throwing at her only solidified it. However, what  _ exactly _ he had confirmed had nothing to do with... _ this.  _ “I knew from the moment I saw her that she was special...I just didn’t know the  _ kind  _ of special she would be.”

What impact her unknown power will have on his **plans** ...he doesn’t know. He has to ask. The possibilities, as always, are endless.

It explains a lot, when he thinks about it. When Lucifer had offhandedly brought up a rumor that he’d cast a protective spell on her to prevent demons from attacking, when Levi had suddenly looked disoriented and appeared to stop himself during the quiz a millisecond before Lucifer had stepped in and then started complaining about feeling tired—even when he had first greeted her, when he could have  _ sworn _ he felt something wrap around his wrist for the briefest of moments when she’d taken his hand in hers, but just brushed it off as the wind.

Maybe if he had given any indication that he felt it back then, this wouldn’t have happened. However, he knows in his gut that he can’t exactly fault her for defending herself. 

He knows about this power, of course (mostly stemming from _something_ that had _almost_ happened in the human world almost a decade ago which would have dragged both the Devildom and Celestial Realm with it, only to apparently be somehow reversed at the very last moment), but aside from the fact that it exists and he can’t see it...his knowledge is lacking. He didn’t even know that it had a name: _a Stand._ Lucifer would probably be even more bitter if he knew, but at the moment, Diavolo’s more _curious_ than angered regarding Salomé’s demonstration of her ability. He’s not even sure if he’s actually angry to begin with: it makes sense that she wouldn’t disclose her power in a world full of beings who couldn’t see it, some of which would like to kill her, it works to bolster her chances of survival...then, a memory: _“Please, it’s nothing, Lord Diavolo. I’ve been told_ ** _I have a calming effect on people, so I simply thought to put it to use.”_** She’d **admitted** to it—albeit, in a very roundabout way, but she’d straight up _told_ him her ability, and because he could see that she was telling the truth, he hadn’t thought to question it! 

She’s a clever one. He’ll give her that.

Lucifer’s sulking like he hasn’t seen in...actually, the Prince isn’t sure he’s  _ ever _ seen him sulk as much as he is right now. He’s regretful for threatening the little group, Diavolo could tell his apology was sincere—but the regret is only secondary to sheer disbelief and bitterness at being bound, gagged, and then yelled at for three minutes straight by a non-magical human who kept being shielded from the curses he was throwing her way. It’s a shame, but he knows his best friend isn’t going to get over this for a while. If ever.

“We should see if she’s awake now,” he says finally, to which the Avatar of Pride makes a noise of assent and opens the secret door. The two leave the study.

To his surprise, she’s already waiting for them in the library. She’s been cleaned up of all the blood and is now wearing a large yellow long-sleeved shirt with  _ “Quentined and Tarantined by Writtin Directino” _ written across it, whatever  _ that _ means. Beelzebub is holding her left hand, and Satan is at her right shoulder.  _ That _ isn’t particularly shocking—he suspects the fourth-born has taken a whole new interest in the human after witnessing that display of power against the oldest. Power is an attractive thing to demons, regardless of where it comes from, but considering the blonde’s contentious relationship with Lucifer... the aforementioned oldest brother’s gaze hardens at the sight of the two of them, and Diavolo’s suspicions are confirmed.

Before he can even say anything, she claps her hands once. “Well then. I do suppose it’s time for some  **proper introductions,** no?”

“...that’s...an understatement,” Diavolo allows after a moment as she moves to plop down into the chair facing the opening to the study, crossing her legs, resting her elbow on the left armrest. There’s something about the casualness with which she’s approaching this that tells him that this has _absolutely_ happened before. Satan moves to subtly lean against the right armrest, and he’s pretty sure Lucifer _twitches_ at the movement. He moves to sit in the chair opposite to her, Lucifer standing behind him to his right—Beelzebub is standing behind her with his hands on top of the back of the chair, and Mammon and Asmodeus are standing adjacent to the coffee table. “Salomé, while you’re not in any trouble for defending yourself...” (she relaxes slightly) “...I have a lot of questions.”

“And I’ll be happy to answer them...granted, it would be easier to explain if you could see—actually...hang on.” She blinks, and Diavolo notices that both Beelzebub and Mammon look up, specifically at her left hand. “If you smell flowers, raise your hand.”

Only Mammon and Beel raise their hands, to which her brow furrows. “Right then, that’s...weird, I guess it doesn’t extend to all of you...anyway...”

“ _ What _ doesn’t?” Lucifer sounds like a mixture of being on the verge of snapping and just generally exhausted. She doesn’t even blink.

“I mean...Lucifer and Asmo, you were angels too, and so was Levi, but he’s never given any indication that he can sense her at all...my idea was that because you were angels once, you’ve still got some abstract trait left over that would allow you to sense Stands like Luke and Simeon can—”

**_“THEY KNEW WHAT IT WAS?!”_ **

“Luke was explaining it in the tomb, Mammon. Screaming about it, actually,” Beel replies as his older brother screeches.

**_“WELL I’M SORRY FOR NOT PAYIN’ ATTENTION TO THAT WHILE SHE WAS MOPPIN’ THE FLOOR WITH HIM—”_ **

“Mammon, I’d advise you  **not** to phrase it like that,” Salomé interjects loudly, jerking a thumb over at an increasingly irate-looking Lucifer, who’s turned his glower over to Mammon, who gulps and falls silent.

“It wasn’t even that. It was barely a fight to begin with, he couldn’t even hit the Stand at all,” Satan starts a little too gleefully, to which the human winces as she makes a slicing motion at her throat and Lucifer grips the back of the chair so hard that Diavolo’s pretty sure it just might break.

“Salomé, is this true?” the Prince asks her, cutting off the fourth-born before Lucifer loses it completely.

She blinks. “Regarding the angels knowing or him being unable to touch my Stand? Yes to both. Please don’t be mad at them—it’s my fault they didn’t say anything, they only stayed quiet because I asked them to.”

Again, he can understand why she’d want them to keep it a secret, for the sake of giving her the advantage of the element of surprise against any would-be attackers. Alone in a totally new world of demons and magic, it was wise to keep some tricks hidden up her sleeve. But the part about a demon as strong as  _ Lucifer _ being unable to fight against it... “ _ Why _ couldn’t Lucifer have fought against it?”

“It’s not through any fault or weakness of his own, it’s just because he’s not a Stand User. That’s why he was directing all the spells towards  _ me _ , and not my Stand. Stands can only be touched by other Stands and their Users—and now I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that angels...” She moves her arm while speaking, her sleeve riding up slightly—she falls silent then, eyes huge and mouth pursed as she stares at something on the back of her wrist. The Prince tilts his head and is about to ask her what’s wrong before Satan leans over and goes “...are...are those...?”

She nods incredulously before sighing and returning her gaze, still wide-eyed, back to Diavolo. “Damage inflicted upon a Stand reflects on the User. The same is true for sensations in general. Like, if another Stand punched my Stand, I’d feel the impact and pain, and if a Stand User touched my Stand on the head, I’d feel someone touching my head. I can  **see through her eyes and hear through her ears** as well, and the reverse is true for her if she’s not out.”

“If she eats something, can you taste it?” Beel suddenly asks.

She blinks slowly. “I...I don’t know. I’ve never seen her eat...I don’t even know if she  _ has _ to...” The orange-haired demon frowns. “Anyway...going off my original ideas about how Mammon and Beel can tell if my Stand is out, because Lucifer was chewing on vines from my Stand’s wrist...” She reaches her hand out, palm up and wrist exposed to show what exactly she’s so surprised at.

_ Teeth marks.  _ Not deep enough to bleed, but pretty obvious. He glances up at his friend, who smirks, only to immediately go back to frowning when she says “Not enough to do real damage, but still...the _ Foundation’s _ gonna fucking lose it if I tell...”

_“You just_ ** _had_** _to say that,”_ his friend hisses, to which the human scoffs and raises a hand. **“If you didn’t want a bonfire, you shouldn’t have thrown the match in the kindling,** but what’s done is done. Don’t try to start it again, étoile-du-matin, I have no interest in escalating this situation further with you. Look, if it makes you feel any better, I once got my ass kicked by an **albino** **peacock** **with a Stand** in the London Zoo when I was seventeen, okay?” Before anyone in the room has time to process that, she returns her gaze to the Prince. “Lord Diavolo, did I lie at any time when I was down there using my Stand on him, or at any time since this conversation began? Did I say anything incorrect or otherwise baseless? _Was I wrong to take action as well as telling your right-hand man everything he’d fucked up on regarding the situation?_ ”

Prince Diavolo does not tell lies. Prince Diavolo cannot tell lies. A glance up at Lucifer tells him that the Avatar of Pride knows the answer too, but he would rather die than admit it. So, as one does for a best friend, he says it for him. “No,” is all he says before hurriedly changing the subject (he’s pretty sure Lucifer might just combust if she continues blasting away at his pride like this): “Salomé, tell me everything you know about Stands and everything about your own Stand.”

Salomé sighs, leaning back in her chair and steepling her fingers. “Okay, so, Stands...well, here’s the thing. People have different explanations for what they are—a physical manifestation of the soul, life energy, fighting spirit, inner will—to keep it easy, let’s just go with the soul explanation. A Stand is a physical manifestation of the soul which has a unique set of abilities, or can grant the User themselves the abilities— **my high school boyfriend can turn parts of himself into steel with his Stand** , for instance. It’s up to the User to figure out how to best use their abilities in any given situation. Stands consistently obey their Users and are varying degrees of sentient. Like I said earlier, the only people who can see and interact with Stands are almost always Stand Users, and now angels. In this sense, it wouldn’t be incorrect to say that Stands are essentially like personal superpowered poltergeists—especially since Stand Users can see ghosts. We’re more ‘open’ to the supernatural, but as I’m sure you all know by now, Stands aren’t ‘magical’ in the way you’re familiar with.”

“Is that the real reason why ya didn’t say anything?” Mammon suddenly pipes up, and everyone turns to him. 

"Right, credit where credit is due...” She extends a hand in the Avatar of Greed’s direction, a fond little smile gracing her lips.  **“Mammon here was the only one in this house to figure out that I’ve got a little** **_gift,_ ** **shall we say, and confront me about it: in fact, within the first few days of my stay.** I was really impressed, that was  **really smart!** And before any of you get on him for not saying anything, I ordered him to keep quiet, so it’s not like he could even if he wanted to.” There’s a certain smugness to her words, and Diavolo’s wondering why she doesn’t say anything else for a moment, but then looking at the other brothers’ faces he realizes:  _ she’s letting it sink in.  _ He knows that Mammon’s treatment by his brothers, while sometimes earned (considering the stealing and reckless behavior), most of the time it’s just outright cruel and unwarranted. This is her way of standing up for him, more subtle than with Beel and Luke, but standing up for him all the same; saying  _ look, the brother you all call  _ **_stupid and scummy_ ** _ figured out my secret not even a week into my stay  _ **_and none of you did!_ ** _ He’s not so incompetent after all! _

Mammon, for his part, blinks owlishly in surprise for a few seconds before suddenly puffing up, full of bravado. “That’s right!  **THE Great Mammon** found out the Stand User when none of  _ you  _ did—and don’t ya forget it!”

“...he’s  **never** going to shut up about this,” Asmodeus whispers with dread in his voice.

“But anyway, to answer your question, Mammon, no. I told you why, remember? It wasn’t the right time.” Something tells him that’s not the only reason. “You’re all actually in the minority of people who know that I have a Stand, or that Stands even exist in the first place. They're a secret in the human world. The only people who know about them are the Stand Users and another  **group of people** who study them. I’ve worked with them before...” She very purposely doesn’t say a name for the group (probably the ‘Foundation’ she mentioned earlier), and he’s about to ask her why, when: “...actually, now that I think about it, when exactly  **is** the right time to drop _ ‘oh yeah, by the way, I have a voice in my head that’s actually just a personal poltergeist caused by a virus who I can summon out of me at will that only I can see and that I use to read people’s emotions and tranquilize them’ _ ?”

A  **virus?** His brow knits. He had assumed it to be some sort of magic, just not what demons would have been exposed to as she had said, but a virus... “Are you sick, Salomé?”

“What? No, not like that. The way it was explained to me,” she begins, “Is that about 50,000 years ago, a meteorite crashed into an area of what’s now known as Cape York—that’s a place way up north in Greenland. The meteorite was host to some sort of virus that almost always ends up killing whatever it infects. But there are a few people out there who can survive it, and as a result, end up with what’s now known as Stand abilities. You could consider the Stand a ‘reward’ for surviving. Found out the other day it was known as ‘cursed ground’ back before the virus was discovered, because of all the dying and the few survivors coming out with superpowers...so if you’ve ever run into somebody in the human world with a power you can’t see and they said it was because of some cursed ground shit, that was a Stand User.”

“ _ The other day? _ Who told you that?” Solomon, he’s guessing.

“You know Tunrida, the ice demon? She used to hang around there, apparently.  **Completely** figured me out based on her previous experience with another User.”

Asmodeus lets out a loud gasp, and all eyes turn to him. “Lucifugus’s party...it wasn’t the succubus!  _ You _ were the one who threw Ephippas out the window!”

“ _ What _ party?” Lucifer asks dangerously at the same time as Mammon shouts  _ “Threw Ephippas out a window?!”  _

Asmodeus nods hurriedly. “I didn’t see it happen, but apparently there was some sort of fight in the bathroom and he went out the window, and that little pink-haired succubus who’s obsessed with space, Meridiana, said she did it!”

The human shrugs. “She covered for me, and before you ask, I don’t know why, she just likes me for some reason. Elle pourrait être _francophile_ pour autant que je sache. I’m not going to complain about it. Anyway, I wasn’t personally exposed to the virus up in Greenland, but someone on my father’s side of the family was. That’s how I was born with a Stand.”

“This is a  _ hereditary  _ effect?”

She nods. “Yeah. My paternal grandma and my aunt both have Stands. Judging by that, my dad's ability is latent—he has no idea that he has that potential, but if he were ever to come into contact with the virus or if he were in some sort of life-threatening danger, it would awaken. Similarly, if I ever have any kids, they’ll either have their Stands from right when they’re born, or it’ll be latent, like with my dad.”

Diavolo speaks up then. “Is that all you know about Stands in general?”

“One more thing.  **Stand Users attract Stand Users.** If they’re within a certain distance of each other, they’re essentially preordained to meet...it can be a pretty dangerous existence.” Something about the way she says that tells him that there are  _ definitely _ stories behind it. He’d love to ask her about them...ideally when Lucifer is out of earshot. “I don’t know why that happens, no one does—one of my friends hypothesized that it was because we all had traces of the virus living inside us from the meteorite, and those traces reach out to each other like how satellites in space reach out for alien life because they want to be together again and one day, all of us are going to end up at that crash site in Greenland, made whole again, some shit like that...but he was  _ high off my Stand  _ when he was spewing that, so take that idea with a grain of salt...anyway, Lord Diavolo, if strange phenomena start happening and you can’t detect any magical energy, call me.”

_ That’s...a lot to take in.  _ “I’m sorry, did you just say  _ high off of your Stand?”  _ He asks before he can stop himself, to which Salomé snickers and pinches the bridge of her nose. “That’s right. High. I guess it’s time for you guys to meet her...” He gets the sense that she  _ really _ doesn’t want to talk about her  **own** power as opposed to Stands in general, and while he definitely understands her reluctance, he has to brush her feelings aside. He has to know if she’s actually a  **danger.** “...Okay, how do I go about...” She taps her hands on her knees. “Oh, I know. Alright, who here isn’t okay with being touched by something you can’t see?”

“...I think we’re all okay with it,” Satan says after a moment, looking around, and everyone nods.

“It sounds kind of hot, actually,” Asmodeus comments, to which everyone turns to him with varying degrees of disgust and confusion across their faces. “ _ What?  _ She’s got an extra pair of invisible hands—they’re hands, right? Or _ropes_?”

“...erm...they... _ can _ be both...”

“Ooh, how  _ versatile! _ See, doesn’t it sound  _ exciting?” _ The human’s left eye twitches, she’s evidently disturbed.

“...you know what, I’m just going to sit here...and pretend you didn’t say that...out loud...with your whole chest...in front of everybody,” Salomé mutters after a moment before turning to look at Lucifer. “Lucifer—you’re sure you’re okay with this, even after what’s happened? If you’re not, it’s okay—”

“Just do it,” the Avatar of Pride huffs, though noticeably less snappy than earlier.

“Right, so...again, if anybody wants me to stop, just say when...” Something wraps around Diavolo’s wrist and gently squeezes twice, and judging by the looks of his fellow demons around him, they’re all feeling it. “...this is「LAY ALL YOUR LOVE ON ME」, but to keep this simple, just call her 「LOVE ON ME」.”

“Okay, wait wait wait,” Asmodeus interrupts, waving his hands about. “You said this is your soul, right?”

She shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “To keep things easy for you guys, yeah...”

“And her name is 「LAY ALL YOUR LOVE ON ME」, or just 「LOVE ON ME」. Your  _ soul _ is literally named 「LOVE ON ME」.”

She stares blankly at the Avatar of Lust. “Yeah. And what about it?”

“So what you’re saying here is that you’re—”

“...he’s even being weird about a literal _ ghost, _ ” Satan mutters, to which Salomé laughs nervously and pinches the bridge of her nose. “...ahahaha...fuck’s sake...look, this is all I’m going to say on the matter: I don’t know why my Stand is named 「LOVE ON ME」, she came that way, and I’m not gonna question it.”

Diavolo knows that she’s going to be less open to answering questions if Asmodeus keeps going down this road, so he chooses right now to say something. “You called its... _ her _ name back in the tomb to summon her, but you didn’t just now...”

“I technically don’t  _ need _ to call her out verbally. I can just do it with my mind. She can even come out by herself, I guess based on some subconscious desire of mine for her to. Sometimes, as a result, we do chores together.” How...mundane that is. An entity capable of holding down the second-most powerful demon in all of existence...and she uses it— _ her— _ to do household chores.

“So then...why did you call her out back there, when you could’ve done it silently?” Beel asks. 

“I, eh...I...I thought it would look cool,” she mutters, sinking slightly in her seat, evidently embarrassed.

“It did,” Satan reassures her, to which Lucifer bristles, and Salomé gives a small smile and averts her eyes.  _ Oh, he’s just wasting no time at all... _ Again, the Prince hurries to change the subject before Satan can provoke Lucifer any further.

“You said that  _ she _ allows you to read emotions as well as act as a tranquilizer?”

The human nods. “Yeah. I can gauge anyone’s true feelings from wrapping my Stand around them—makes me good at sniffing out liars and telling people’s true intentions, what drives them. But mostly, it’s a gauge for how calm a person is, even if they’re not displaying any outwards agitation. Though, strangely, with you demons...your emotions are a lot stronger than humans’, or rather, you feel them more strongly. It’s zero or a hundred with you. I’ve noticed that your emotions can even affect my own, so much so that sometimes I can’t tell which are mine and which are yours. Sometimes they become mine. Like what just happened today.”

“Are you saying that you... _ shared _ Lucifer’s sin?” 

“Yep. I basically  _ absorbed _ his pride, like some sort of emotional sponge. Like, 70% of that whole display was literally just  **his** influence on me.”

“So in a way...he did it to himself...”

**_“Satan, enough.”_ **

“It felt absolutely  _ fantastic,  _ though, so thank you for the ego trip, Lucifer.  **Greatest. High. Ever.** I don’t think I’m getting over your emotions.”

If he wasn’t there, and she wasn’t a Stand User, Diavolo’s 99% sure that Lucifer would have snapped her neck for her insolence the second those words left her mouth. He’s gritting his teeth so hard that the Prince is surprised that they haven’t broken.

“Speaking of that unpleasantness...” She glances towards the clock on the mantelpiece. “...oops, two minutes. Well, the best learning is achieved by demonstration. Sorry.”

Before he can ask what she means, the calm hits him like one of those freight trains they have in the human world. It’s like all of the worries and stresses of being heir to the throne have literally...melted away. He hasn’t felt this calm in millennia, he thinks as he begins to sink down into his chair. All he wants to do is just take a nap for a century or two, in front of this roaring fire...a lazy glance around tells him that his fellow demons are feeling the exact same way. Asmodeus and Mammon have sunk to the floor in sitting positions, almost lying down, Beel is now draped over the back of the human’s chair, Satan is heavily leaning on the armrest to the point where it looks like he might just fall over onto the human, and Lucifer, while keeping an iron grip on the back of Diavolo’s chair, is swaying and holding the side of his head. Everyone is blinking rapidly as if trying to stay awake, looking heavily disoriented.

“Two minutes after the first exposure to 「LOVE ON ME」results in sedation, and any physical pain disappears,” he hears the human say. “If I keep her out, but let you go, you’ll stay in this state for four minutes. If I tap out like I did in the tomb, the effect disappears immediately, and the same goes for if I make her  _ go away _ ...” He hears a faint snap of fingers, and the thing wrapped around his wrist vanishes, and a moment later the calm does too, as if he’s just been rudely awakened.

“Are you guys alright?” At least she’s considerate about it. Everyone nods. “It didn’t feel bad or anything, did it? Lord Diavolo, was it okay?”

“I...I haven’t felt that relaxed in a very long time, Salomé...it was...nice,” the Prince admits, and her face lights up. “Really? Why thank you, I’m glad! Well hey, if you’re ever feeling too stressed, call me over! I’d be more than happy to use her on you for a few minutes.” Lucifer grumbles something unintelligible, to which she rolls her eyes.

“Right, so...if I were to keep her wrapped around you, you’d be calm for another two minutes. Then, at five minutes...well, to put it plainly, you start **_absolutely tripping balls._** You’re as high as a kite. Now, the high effect doesn’t work on me—I think it’s some self-preservation on 「LOVE ON ME」’s part—but I’ve been told it feels like you've lost control. You start experiencing all sorts of hallucinations—some people have good ones, others have bad. Anyway, the same standard as with the calm: if I keep her out but let you go, you’ll trip balls for ten more minutes, if she goes away it vanishes instantly. If you stay wrapped, you stay high for three more minutes. At the eight-minute mark, you go to sleep, again, if you’re let go you stay like that for sixteen minutes.”

“So that’s your skill,” Mammon says. “Ya read a person’s emotions, calm them down, they hallucinate, and then they go to sleep? Is that all? Not a lot, if ya ask me...”

“Oh, no, that’s not all of it. After ten minutes wrapped in my Stand, you die. Totally painless.” She says it as calmly as she would order a coffee, and the truth comes to Diavolo: she has **_absolutely_** hit the ten-minute mark before.

It’s a dangerous power, certainly. But it's a slow-acting one... “Can you control the speed of these effects?” the Prince asks.

“I mean...” Salomé sighs. “I  _ technically _ can—I did it on Levi before he tried to jump me—but it takes a lot of concentration on my end, and then there’s always the chance of overshooting it...” She shakes her head, face scrunching up. “...I don’t do it often and I don’t like doing it very much.” No lies detected. The _power_ is dangerous. _She,_ however, does not appear to be.

“Maybe you just need to hone that skill a little bit,” Satan comments from her side. “Think about it, you can literally  _ kill _ a person without even having to move. You can send her away from you to control remotely, can’t you?”

“I mean...I can...but I don’t know how far I can before she’s rendered useless...are...are you trying to hire me as some kind of  _ hitman?” _

“I’m just curious, Salomé. This is a very valuable skill you have. You should learn the full scope of it.”

“Oh. Because I was going to say, I’m  _ expensive.”  _ It’s obvious that the human is joking around. The Avatar of Wrath, on the other hand, is entirely serious. 

“Salomé, let’s review,” Diavolo interjects once more. “You have the ability to sense the emotions of others, and put them to sleep in the process. Yet, you used 「LOVE ON ME」 against Lucifer as a combatant...are all Stands for fighting?”

"I wanted to _calm him down_. If that meant fighting him, I accept it. But to answer your question, not all Stands have abilities _naturally_ suited for fighting. Of course, if the User is creative enough, any ability can be used to fight. However, regarding 「LOVE ON ME」...if I’m being honest, while she can sure as hell pack a punch should the situation call for it and I can certainly use her ability to fight, as you all saw down there, I think  **「LOVE ON ME」’s ability is more suitable for** **_therapeutic purposes_ ** **as opposed to direct combat.”**

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices how Lucifer just looks like he’s absolutely dead inside.  _ Not even a combat ability. A  _ **_therapeutic_ ** _ one.  _ Satan has a hand clamped over his mouth and his shoulders are shaking violently.

“Word of this  _ incident _ and anything related to it, including this  _ Stand, _ is not going to leave this house,” Lucifer says before the fourth oldest can make any comments, eyes and tone colder than ice. “Do I make myself clear?”

* * *

“Salomé beat Lucifer!”

Solomon and Abyzou look up from the notebook full of magic circles in front of them in surprise as Luke bursts in through the doorway, tailed by Simeon. “You mean like...in...a game?” The sorcerer asks.

Luke shakes his head wildly as he jumps up and down. “No! She  **fought** him with her Stand to protect me and Beel, and she won! She actually won! A  _ Stand _ defeated a powerful demon like Lucifer! She was amazing! And then she  _ lectured _ him!” 

Abyzou starts choking on her Sparkling Fresh Bloody Soda while Solomon just stares at the little angel. “...a Stand?”  _ Is...is that what her little gift is called? A ‘Stand’? And they  _ **_knew?_ ** _ No, forget that. This ‘Stand’ faced off against Lucifer  _ **_and won?_ ** _ And it’s not even  _ **_magical?_ ** _ What kind of insane power... _

He’s going to grill her  **mercilessly** tomorrow.

“Luke,” Simeon says gently, placing a hand on the younger angel’s shoulder to try to calm him. “I think it should be Salomé’s decision to tell her friends about her ability...”

“So  _ that’s _ what it was called?” Abyzou asks, raising an eyebrow, to which Luke flinches at the sight of her and shrinks. The demoness jerks a thumb over at the human. “Relax. I’m just here to help this one figure some spells out. And I don’t eat kids.”

“Don’t eat kids _ anymore, _ you mean,” Solomon finishes her statement with a sigh as he turns to the pacted snake demon, to which Luke yelps and hides behind Simeon. “You knew about it too? That it wasn’t just a charm like everyone was saying?”

“Well, I know  _ you _ would have never done that for her like they were saying—actually, scratch that. You would have, because she’s a girl, and she’s pretty and doesn’t hate you—”

He rolls his eyes. “Abyzou, please, I’ve calmed down.”

“Bullshit. Anyway, Asmo took her to a party the week you two showed up here, and she threw Ephippas out of a window with her ‘Stand’ after we started fighting. Fuckin’ beat him into the ground without even lifting a finger or deigning to look at him, one of the best nights of the past 300 years. Meri took the blame for some reason, and I only realized when I got sober next morning that she was lying.”

Solomon’s a bit miffed that neither Asmo nor Ephippas had mentioned the incident to him, though he  _ had _ seen the wind demon looking quite a bit worse for wear for the next week, just chalking it up to random demon violence. But aside from that...  _ “You knew about it? _ The whole time?”

Simeon rubs at the back of his neck and offers an apologetic smile. “I hate that you had to find out this way...but yes, Luke and I were aware, because we can see her Stand. She asked us to keep quiet about it...you’re not mad, are you?”

He can definitely understand why she’d want to keep it a secret: after all, witches and sorcerers are kept a secret from the non-magical public as well, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to assume that people with ‘Stands’ would be a secret too (especially considering the fact that the Stands themselves are invisible). And here, in the Devildom, while such bizarre phenomena might be more readily accepted considering the universal knowledge of magic...it was good to have some tricks up her sleeve to survive, especially considering that  _ Mammon _ of all demons had been assigned to look after her. And of course, the angels would respect her wish to keep it a secret, they’re  _ angels. _ “Not  _ mad, _ per se. More surprised than anything else.”  _ And  _ **_curious._ ** “Oooh, Lucifer must be  _ fuming...” _

“About that,” Simeon says with a wince. “He told me before we left and he went to talk to Lord Diavolo that not a word about the incident was to leave the House of Lamentation...”

“...oops,” Luke whimpers.

“...so I need to ask you both—” he nods towards Abyzou and Solomon “—not to tell anyone. Okay?”

“Don’t worry.  _ I _ have no plans on saying  _ shit, _ ” Abyzou replies, raising her hands in surrender as she stands up and begins to leave. “I don’t interact with those brothers much and I don’t really wanna start now. I don’t even **want** to imagine how pissed Lucifer’s going to be for the next couple thousand years that he got his ass whooped by a human in front of 5 of his brothers and Lord Diavolo—if I say a peep to anyone, I’ll be dead faster than you can blink. See you all tomorrow.”

Solomon nods in assent. While it would make for some incredible gossip, he wants to win over and pact Lucifer someday...and spreading the word about the Avatar of Pride’s humiliation would send him past square one and into the negatives.

An hour later, he gets a text.

_ Team Human: _

**Salomé:**

>heyyyy

>can we talk tomorrow?

>i was wondering if you know any way to   
communicate with the human world while we’re down here.   
>preferably using my cellphone.  
  


**Solomon:**

>Hey there Salome.

>I’m surprised you didn’t ask earlier.

>I’ll be happy to help.

>Bring your cellphone and meet me in the    
courtyard during lunch.  
  


**Salomé:**

>thanksdemoji.png  
  


**Solomon:**

>...so, a ‘Stand’, huh?  
  


**Salomé:**

>exasperateddemoji.png

>ostiiiii

>luke told you?  
  


**Solomon:**

>noddemoji.png  
  


**Salomé:**

>cryingdemoji.png

>i really wanted you to figure it out for yourself.

>more than anybody here.

>but ok.

>i’ll tell you everything tmm.

* * *

Beatrice has never been to Mexico before and had only ever seen the Pacific Ocean on two trips to Malibu and L.A. when she was younger. Her family was more fond of going up and down the East Coast when venturing from their Park Avenue luxury apartment (she’ll never forget how hard she got dragged when she had announced that she would be moving to  _ New Jersey _ , though), or to Europe, often to visit family. Bilbao in the Basque Country for her mother’s family, Bellinzona in Switzerland for her father’s.

Bellinzona. Where she’d run, hidden, taking care of her near-senile grandmother while telling absolutely no one else where she was. She’d felt horrible: hiding out in a medieval mountain town and lying to her grandmother that everyone knew where she was and everything was just  _ fine,  _ leaving the rest of her family and friends behind to worry while she tried to deal with this strange blue and black smoking ghost that sent other people into a frenzy that now silently followed her around.

She’d hoped  **one person in particular** hated her for what she’d done before she’d left, so much that she wouldn’t ever come looking, wouldn’t ever come into contact with that strange, lethal ghost.  _ It’s all to protect her, _ Beatrice had repeated to herself so many times, like a mantra.  _ I have to stay away from the people I love to protect them, and when I figure it all out, I’ll come back. Like the movies. _

That hope had been dashed when, while taking a walk near the railway station, someone had grabbed her shoulder and she’d turned around to see her friend Oz, all the way from London, with the biggest dark circles under his bright blue eyes that she’d ever seen—and being  _ followed _ . After a truly bizarre fight using that strange blue and black ghost (called a Stand, apparently), Oz had explained to her what all this Stand business was (and made her feel  _ spectacularly  _ stupid for leaving like she had, considering that  **that one person** apparently could’ve helped her out), and she’d asked him about  _ her,  _ at which worry and despair clouded his handsome features, his shoulders slumping.

“So she’s not with you, huh...? Knew that was too good of an idea to be true.”

One thing had led to another, and here they are, currently hiding out at the seaside estate of her ex-girlfriend’s high school boyfriend’s (he’s alright, really, there’s no awkwardness between them or anything, except for the fact that he’s _a_ _fucking Quentin Tarantino fanboy, for fuck’s sake, Lo, he’s got too much_ ** _steel_** _in the brain)_ grandfather. And here she is, sitting in the sand a few feet away from the water, while everyone else is inside, probably sleeping.

Even though they’re on private property, she knows it’s still dangerous for her to be sitting out on the moonlit beach alone. Stand Users attract other Stand Users, as Oz had put it and as she had experienced  _ multiple _ times so far on their journey...but she needs some alone time.

That hallucination (for what else could it be, she couldn’t be dead, Beatrice refused that possibility) she’d experienced on the back of Fernando’s truck had shaken her to the core. She had thought she was going insane, truly, how they had  _ just _ left from speaking to Yves Desjardins (the famed author really could have been her father-in-law, now that she thinks about it), only to see his missing daughter miraculously appear on the roof of Fernando’s pickup truck before disappearing just as quickly, like a mirage in the California desert.

(Oz had seen her too. It’s both reassuring and terrifying.)

But she is alive. Yves had confirmed as much when they had gone to visit him, in a similar manner to how Beatrice now knows in her gut that her parents are alive and well. She pities her ex’s father—first dealing with the suspicion of his wife’s murder for years, and now his only child  _ literally _ falling off the face of the Earth.  _ But she’s alive, that’s what matters _ , Beatrice thinks as she takes a swig from her bottle of Coke.  _ We’ll get her back somehow, safe and sound...holy shit, Fernando wasn’t kidding, Mexican Coke is so much better than American...and help her if she needs it. And if she doesn’t want to be around me, well...I’ve got no choice but to respect that. _

Beside her in the sand, her phone starts buzzing. Beatrice turns dissolutely towards it, only for the sound of the waves before her to fade to a faint hum as she feels the blood drain from her face. Someone could be rushing to attack her at this very moment and she doesn’t even think she’d give a shit. Her wide eyes are fixated on the name on the screen in the moonlight.

_...Salomé...! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently salomé is a related form of "shulamith", which in turn is the female form of the name solomon...which i did not realize until i was editing solomon's introduction in chapter 2 🤡
> 
> elle pourrait être francophile pour autant que je sache = she could be a francophile for all i know  
> \--  
> Stand Name: 「???」  
> Music Reference: ???  
> Stand User: Fernando Rabanne  
> Namesake: Fernando (ABBA song), Paco Rabanne (Spanish fashion designer)
> 
> Destructive Power: A  
> Speed: B  
> Range: C  
> Durability: A  
> Precision: D  
> Developmental Potential: E
> 
> Appearance: [REDACTED]. The metal that the Stand is made of as well as what Fernando can turn himself into most closely resembles tungsten steel, both in hardness and appearance.
> 
> Stand Ability:
> 
> 1\. Fernando can use 「???」 to turn up to 95% of his body into solid metal, making him almost invincible to most attacks. Being punched by Fernando while he's turned his fists into metal is like getting hit with a steel shovel at full force.  
> 2\. [REDACTED]
> 
> Weaknesses:
> 
> 1\. While he's very athletic and has gotten much faster over the years, Fernando gets slower the more of his body he turns into metal. Similarly, any part of his body that he turns into metal will move slower than if it wasn't metal (ex. he'll be slower to kick something with a metal lower leg than he would if it wasn't metal).  
> 2\. [REDACTED]


	11. Play With Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beatrice has some revelations. Solomon has an offer. Beel has a tasty surprise waiting for him. Lucifer has an uncomfortable conversation. Salomé has a song to sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to apologize ahead of time for the dante references in the phonecall. i had to do it.
> 
> also, damn, lesson 46 had me feelin some kinda way 👀 season 3 is the gift that keeps on giving!!!!
> 
> chapter title is from the sam tinnesz song of the same name.

“H-hi...?”

“...uh, hey...oh—! Oh fuck, uh, um...wh...why are you crying?!”

“Nngh...I th-th-thought you were _dead,_ Lo! Where are you? Are you in trouble?”

A sigh. “...Bice, babe, I’m trying _very_ hard not to be petty right now, but you’re kind of the last person on Earth who’s allowed to complain about me going AWOL.”

“Oh...oh, yeah, that’s fair...wait, so...s-so you really _were_ there, on the top of the truck? Why’d you disappear?”

“Shit, you _did_ see me? Look, I—I think I astral projected by accident or some shit—hey, Solomon, is that possible? Astral projection by accident...Really?...Huh, wow.”

“Astral projectio—honestly, at this point, I can accept it. Who the fuck is Solomon? _Where are you?_ ”

“The guy who fixed my phone so we can talk. He’s cool.”

“Lo, stop dodging the big question. _Where the fuck are you?”_

“I’m not in any danger, let me assure you of that now. But, you disappeared first.” The words aren’t exactly _cold,_ but they’re much more serious than earlier. “What happened with _you,_ Bice?”

A gulp. “I...I got cut on the beach at night while you were still working, a-about two weeks before I left, by some fucker, with a gold arrow on a chain...Oz says you’ve got it...?”

 **_“Aw, fuck._ **Yes, yes, I still have it.”

“Okay, good. That’s important, don’t let it go...a-and I didn’t think anything about it, but then...I got a Stand. And...I didn’t know what it was, it scared me, Lo. I thought I was being haunted, it wouldn’t go away...and then it started to... _do things_ to the people around me...”

“What does it do?” No anger, merely curiosity.

“Um...it causes fever-based tarantism.”

**_“What.”_ **

“The tarantella...like—dancing mania. People lose control of themselves when they breathe the smoke, they start moving all weird, they go fucking insane...and then they collapse, because of the fever...it looks like they try to sweat it out...I think...I...I don’t know for sure, but I think I might’ve _killed_ people, Lo. And...I knew I had to get away before more people got hurt, or you got hurt...so that’s why I sent all those mean things to you out of nowhere and bailed like that. I had to make you hate me, so you wouldn’t come after me. I was up in Bellinzona, trying to figure everything out...”

“Mmm.”

“Are...are you mad at me? I totally get it if you are...”

“Mad? Not...particularly. You didn’t know that I have a Stand, and yours sounds pretty dangerous. You were scared. You did what you thought was right to protect everybody. So for that, I thank you. But...for the record, letting someone think that someone they **love** is **dead** **when they're not** is quite cruel. I **mourned** you for three months.”

 _“Please_ don’t quote Kill Bill at me to get your feelings across, Lo. I get enough Tarantino from that ex-boyfriend of yours.”

Slight laughter. “Alright, alright, but he’s not _that_ bad. And, Bice?”

“...yeah?”

“I won’t lie, I am a bit _upset_ that you didn’t trust me. But I could never _hate_ you, okay? Never. Regardless if you want to start things where we left off or just be friends or really never want to see me again.”

“...really?”

“Of course. If I did, I would’ve burned your hoodie.”

“Y-you still have my hoodie?”

The flicker of a smirk. “ ‘Course I do. Keeps me warm down here.”

“...what do you mean by _down here?_ Lo, no more dodging.”

“Um...on a scale of 1-10, how Catholic do you still identify as now that you’ve got a Stand?”

“Wow, that’s uh...lapsed. Let’s go with lapsed Catholic.”

“Okay. I’m currently going to university in Hell.”

**_“...what?”_ **

“Yep. University in Hell. I know it sounds unbelievable—”

**_“Yeah, no shit, Lo!”_ **

“—hear me out! I’ll send you some proof later, okay? Promise. I didn’t go because I wanted to. I was supposed to meet Oz in London when they grabbed me.” 

_“That’s_ what that weird hole in the airport was? Lo, they caught that shit on the security cameras. Oz showed me when he and I met up, you made **_international headlines!”_ **

“...ah. Fuck.”

_“Yeah!”_

“Ah...I’ll...I’ll deal with that later...I was picked at random from the human population. I wasn’t informed beforehand. It’s part of an exchange program set up by the Prince of Hell—”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. Is it a cult? You can tell me, I’m not gonna laugh—”

_“Bice. Baby. Light of my life. Ma chérie. Ma beauté. Shut the fuck up and let me finish.”_

A whine that goes ignored.

“Anyway. Exchange program. 2 humans go to Hell, 2 humans go to Heaven, 2 angels go to Hell, 2 demons go to Heaven, 2 demons go to the human world, 2 angels go to the human world. I have to stay here for a year, up to the day I fell through the floor. Then I go home. Before you ask—yes, my Stand works on them. I’m safe.”

“...uh...huh...holy shit...well...I mean, I’ve got a Stand...and I’ve seen a lot of wild shit, I mean...I...shit...”

“Yeah. I know. Once you’ve got a ghost that hits people, anything seems possible, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah that’s...that’s fair...what’s the point of the program, anyway?”

“It’s a cultural exchange. The Prince wants to improve relations between the three realms, and hopefully, everyone would get something out of it...I gotta say, though, I’m not sure what...”

“Erm...maybe as a creative outlet?”

“Well fuck, what do you expect me to do, Beatrice? Write a poem about being stuck here in Hell or some shit?”

Mischief enter’s the blonde’s tone. “...actually, I think it’d do pretty well. Ah, you shouldn’t just talk about Hell...talk about Purgatory, if it’s real, and Heaven too, from the angels’ account. Oh, and put me in there.”

“You think? Where would I even put you? Chilling at the top of Purgatory?”

Giggling. “Fuck yeah. And give me a whole procession and dramatic-ass entrance.”

“Mmmm...heh, whatever you say, babe. Oh, and...the ruler of Hell is Italian.”

An overdramatically offended gasp. **_“NO!”_ **

“You’re _Swiss!_ It doesn’t even affect you!”

 _“Swiss-Italian!_ We’re Florentine if you go back far enough!”

Her laughter rings out. “ _Only half Swiss-Italian!_ The other half's pure Basque, according to your mom! Hell, i f we’re getting that technical, a couple of hundred years of going back far enough through _my_ dad, we’re probably Métis.”

“Yeah, well...” she huffs. “Hey, speaking of your dad...have you called him yet?”

“Um...”

 **_“SALOMÉ DESJARDINS!_ ** THAT MAN IS WORRIED SICK! WE JUST SAW HIM A FEW DAYS AGO, HE’S LOOKED LIKE HE’S AGED A DECADE SINCE YOU LEFT! I can’t believe you!”

“You’re mad I called you first?! After fucking accidentally astral projecting over to you? Look, I’ll call him—”

“You better! The man’s Stand woke up right before we got to him, and he’s got a whole lot of questions for you!”

“His fucking **WHAT—** you know what, no. No, I can’t process this right now—”

“Lo, you have to call him. Please.”

“I will! I will, just...not right now. I’ve still got classes. But today, okay? I’ll call him today.”

“That sounds so surreal...”

“Yeah...”

The silence stretches between them. The sound of the waves reaches Salomé’s ears. Considering that she’d seen her driving to Tijuana, she’s pretty sure she knows where her ex-girlfriend happens to be. “...what time is it over there, Bice?”

“Um...a little past 1 AM.”

“...you should sleep. I’ll call again at the same time tomorrow.”

“I don’t know how I’m gonna sleep now, Lo...Hell is real and you’re in it...”

“Just try, okay? I’m gonna be just fine. I promise. Send everyone my love.”

“...so like...we’re cool now, right?”

“Wh—yes. Yes, babe, we’re cool. We can, uh...we’ll deal with our thing later, okay? Goodnight.”

“...goodnight, Salomé...”

* * *

She hangs up and turns to look back at Solomon and her three demoness friends, who are all staring at her. “That was...the weirdest half of a conversation I’ve overheard in a very long time,” the sorcerer says from his spot on the bench next to the Stand User, at which Salomé swats at him harmlessly. 

“So—was that...your girlfriend?” Tunrida asks.

“Ex. Broke up with me as part of faking her own disappearance.” Solomon holds out another magically conjured lit cigarette, which she deftly takes.「LOVE ON ME」manifests to boop his nose in thanks, causing him to wrinkle his nose, grinning in fondness and curiosity.

“You kept calling her ‘babe’, though,” Abyzou points out, and Salomé wrinkles her nose as she takes a drag. “...habits are hard to break, is all.”

« Alors, elle a un...Stand? » Meridiana questions. To Salomé’s chagrin, the night before, the succubus had texted her with just a _ >Stand? _ about an hour after she had finished talking to Solomon: apparently, Abyzou had found out about the incident from Luke, and then mentioned an ‘incident with Salomé’ happening to Tunrida upon coming home, and since Tunrida had already known, she’d said ‘with Salomé’s Stand?’ just as Meridiana had come into the room...and now Salomé’s pretty sure that Lucifer would blow a fuse if he knew three lower demons were aware of his defeat.

“Yep. I was born with mine, though, and she just got hers three months ago. Still getting the hang of it.”

“Can we see what she looks like?” Solomon asks, to which the green-haired demoness rolls her eyes. “‘Calmed down’, my ass...” The human male spreads his hands. “I’m just curious, I promise.”

The charcoal-haired human pauses for a moment, looking around their surroundings to ensure that none of the brothers are nearby, before quickly pressing some things on her human world phone. “Before I show you guys...I _know,_ okay?”

« Je suis sûr qu'elle est belle, » Meridiana says encouragingly, and Salomé raises her eyebrows. “I mean...that wasn’t what I was getting at, just...here.” She holds the screen out, showing a picture of Beatrice sitting at a table at a restaurant. She sticks the cigarette back in her mouth and watches their faces carefully as the realization dawns on them.

“...oh...oh wow...that’s...” 

“Just like...shit, they could be _twins..._ ”

“The eyes, though. The eyes are the only big difference...otherwise, she’s just like Satan with hair extensions...”

“Salomé, are you sure she’s totally normal except for her new Stand? No...Antichrist-like tendencies?”

Salomé laughs at that. “Nope, perfectly ordinary. Imagine _my_ shock at seeing him for the first time.”

“So, he’s your type?” Solomon questions slyly, to which Abyzou makes a disgusted noise and his fellow human raises both hands, laughing, holding the cigarette in between her teeth. “Nah, nah. I don’t really have a ‘type’ when it comes to looks, and we haven’t really interacted...”

 _“That is likely to change,”_ 「LOVE ON ME」pipes up from where she’s playing with Meridiana’s hair, and the succubus keeps trying to grab onto her incorporeal form. “...actually, no. After yesterday’s...thing, he was really friendly. In fact, tomorrow we’re going to run some tests on 「LOVE ON ME」together. Not that I’m complaining, but...”

“Well, no wonder. He hates Lucifer,” Tunrida murmurs, and Salomé raises her eyebrows as she blows out some smoke. “Seriously? He threatened to snitch to Lucifer on Beel and I yesterday...pre-incident...”

Abyzou snorts. “What, nobody told you? Everybody knows that. He’s played tricks on him and has tried to undermine Lucifer so many times at RAD, and presumably even more at home. After your stunt, you’re probably his favorite person in the world right now.”

“Ah...” The human removes the cigarette to blow out a smoke ring. “... _none of you_ tell him about Beatrice, okay? That’s just...awkward on so many levels no matter what he thinks of me.”

Everyone nods as she switches off her human phone, placing it in her bag before leaning back against the wall. “Are you going to tell _her_ about _him?”_ Tunrida asks. The Stand User shakes her head. “We’ve got a lot more to cover that’s more important than _‘there is a very slight chance that you’re the Antichrist because you’re the spitting image of Satan, babe’_. Namely, all this Stand business that I’m missing out on...”

“I’m curious now,” Solomon says, directing Salomé’s attention towards him as she puts the cigarette back in her mouth. “He didn’t aim for your Stand, just for you. You said he couldn’t even land a hex on you besides the first one, because something was protecting you, but you don’t know what...and you’re sure it had nothing to do with your Stand?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

He smiles at her, putting a hand to his chin. “Oh, nothing. I’m just wondering where it would have come from...if it would come again...”

“You planning on casting a curse on me, Solomon?”

He looks actually wounded at that. “A curse? Do you really think I would do that to you? **Abyzou, don’t start.”** The snake demon hisses indignantly and rolls her eyes. “I was thinking more along the lines of **sparring with you,** Salome. My magic versus your Stand power, but in a safe setting...aren’t you curious?”

Abyzou starts making over-exaggerating retching noises, to which Solomon rolls his eyes. “I’m speaking entirely literally, Abyzou...”

“Don’t you fuckin’ fall for it, ‘lomé! I knew him at his nastiest! He always started out with some shit like that to act all innocent!” Salomé starts wheezing with laughter, having to remove the cigarette. “And then you show up, he has wine and exotic fruits, he’s not wearing a shirt with half his pact marks out, he summons me or Asmodeus or one of the other 70 and pulls off some shiny magic tricks to look impressive, and then next thing you know you’re living with like, 900 other women and there’s a baby coming—”

“It was never _that_ scummy,” Solomon replies, clearly affronted, while his fellow human is wiping at her eyes, totally in stitches. 

“Bullshit, man, I _saw_ you, I was fucking _there—_ ”

“You summoned Abyzou to look cool in front of me and Gerbert in Córdoba, remember? That was how she and I met,” Meridiana throws in.

“I—you think I did that to _seduce_ Gerbert?! The condition of his pact was to be totally faithful to _you!”_

“...I would not put it past you, Solomon, with your reputation,” Tunrida comments softly, at which Solomon’s jaw drops and Salomé howls with laughter once more, starting to wave her hands around to get everyone’s attention.

“Okay! Okay, salacious pasts aside...first off—Solomon, do you know if the camping trip is still gonna be a thing?”

He nods. “Okay then. We can spar out in the woods or some shit, and Simeon, Beel, and Luke are gonna be there, _Abyzou._ Secondly, do any of you guys need to go to the grocery store this afternoon?”

“It’s my turn this week, yeah,” Tunrida responds, to which Salomé nods. “I’ll need to go with you, if that’s okay? Right after classes.” The ice demon assents, and the human grins. “Perfect. And, third, Abyzou, you really shouldn’t worry even if it was just him and I, because _I—”_ The end-of-lunch bell rings, and Salomé springs to her feet, putting out her cigarette and snapping her fingers for effect. _“—have an IUD!_ And now, Devildom Literature class! See you later!”

Solomon’s cackling and Abyzou's _"The fuck is that?"_ follow her as she leaves the courtyard and heads back inside. She’s making her way up the stairs, 「LOVE ON ME」floating at her back, when she feels a hand grab her arm. “Salomé...”

She turns, surprised at the familiar voice. “Levi? That’s right, you’ve got in-person with me this afternoon...what’s up?”

He takes a deep breath. _“You had power—MMPH!”_ She clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Shhh! Lucifer said no one can know!”

 **_“...and you didn’t tell me?!”_ ** He wails, wrenching his face away from her hand. “It’s because I’m a no-good, smelly, shut-in otaku, isn’t it?! I knew it! Of course, you wouldn’t tell someone like me...I had to hear it from _Mammon!”_

The human clicks her tongue against her teeth at him with a sigh as she gestures for him to follow her up the stairs and to class. “C’mon, sunrise-eyes, that’s not true. I didn’t tell _anybody,_ because people like me are a _secret._ The only reason the others knew before you is because they watched me use it...you were in your room, right? Playing that new game. So you couldn’t have known, it isn’t any fault of yours...also, you? Smelly? Nah, you smell like the ocean. Kinda salty, but nice.”

His ears go red and he raises the back of his hand to his mouth again. “You...you think I s-smell nice...?... You’re not serious!”

A teasing smirk. “ _Deadly_ serious.”

“So, wait...I might not be smelly, but you didn’t tell me because I’m just a no-good, shut-in otaku?!”

 _“Here we go again,”_ 「LOVE ON ME」deadpans, only for her User to look up at her with a little twinkle in her eye as they make their way down the hall.

“Say, sunrise-eyes...would you like to meet her formally now? Unfortunately, you can’t see her, so she’s just gonna touch you on the head...of course, if you’re not comfortable, she’ll stop...”

Levi looks at her suspiciously. “Why do you keep saying _she_ and _her?_ Is your power a person...?”

“Because,” Salomé replies as they enter the classroom and sit down at a table together on the left side of the room, generally ignored by the other students “She’s an extension of me...and yet _not._ It’s complicated. You could consider her almost like...a guardian spirit.” 

His brow furrows, and it’s now that 「LOVE ON ME」acts, fondly patting his head. His head shoots up, the beginnings of a shocked cry leaving his mouth, only for the Stand to slap a hand over his mouth at the last moment, several students looking their way in confusion. Salomé, for her part, merely raises an eyebrow at them with cool confidence, but doesn’t have 「LOVE ON ME」let him go until everyone stops looking.

“Remember...nobody else can know,” she murmurs, keeping her eyes straight ahead. “I’ll explain it in more intricate detail after class.” Then, after a moment, she shifts to fully look at him. “...did you like your game, at least?”

* * *

The kitchen’s almost totally fixed. The only thing that still needs to be completed is the wall between Salomé’s room and the kitchen, but otherwise, it’s usable, and Beel couldn’t be more excited. Sure, it was nice to eat out and get take-out for a while, but it’s just not the same. It’ll be nice to cook again... _wait._ He pauses in the entry hall, sniffing, almost like a giant orange dog. Someone is cooking: he can detect potatoes being fried, as well as some sort of meat broth...his mouth starts to water, and he makes a beeline for the kitchen. As he approaches, the faint sound of some unfamiliar music playing hits his ears, as well as somebody singing along.

_“What I really wanna say is, ‘I’ve got mine, and I’ll make it, yes, I’m comin’ up...”_

_Salomé?_

He enters the doorway. The human’s got her back to him, preparing something at the stove as she taps a foot and sways to the beat. She’s got her human world phone sitting on the counter, the source of that background music, next to a bag of cheese chunks. From what he can tell as he approaches from behind, she’s making some sort of french fries and gravy, and it smells _amazing._

_“...tell Sanchito that if he knows what is good for him, he best go run and hide...Daddy’s got a new .45...And I won’t think twice to stick that barrel straight down—”_

“What are you making, Salomé?”

 **_“FUCK!”_ ** She jumps about a foot in the air, whirling around as the scent of 「LOVE ON ME」fills his nostrils. “Oooh _—_ damn! Don’t scare me like that,” she gasps half-exaggeratedly as「LOVE ON ME」’s incorporeal hand pinches his nose for a second in indignation before the scent disappears. “You’re just in time, though! Everything’s done cooking _—_ good thing fangol practice ran a bit late so I had time to go to the store...”

He points at the fries and gravy. “...is...is all of that for me?”

“You bet, and I hope you like it! Please get me a bowl and some tongs for the fries. Oh, and some salt and pepper, would you?”

Beel blinks at her for a moment before a smile spreads across his face and he goes to get what she’s asked for. He’s glad that she doesn’t seem too shaken up from last night. In fact, she seems a lot more...relaxed. Open. Maybe because she feels secure enough to have her Stand out and interacting with the environment, though now not in secret. As he places the requested items on the table, he notices the grocery bag still sitting on top, along with the receipt. Apparently, along with all the things that he’s presumed have gone into whatever she’s making, she’d also picked up a family pack of sushi, which he’s guessing she must have already eaten, considering that it’s no longer in the kitchen.

“So, what did you make?” he asks as she puts some of the fries into the bowl.

“Oh, this is my dad’s recipe for _—_ _ah-ah,_ no fry-stealing, they’re not ready yet!”

He frowns. “But they’re cooked...”

“Yeah, but they’re not _—_ aw, don’t pout like that...I gotta salt them first and put the gravy and cheese...damn, I hope this cheese works out...it was the closest alternative I could find...”

“What do you usually use?” he asks as she goes about fixing up the bowl.

“White cheese curds. When I’m desperate, mozzarella chunks. Like I was saying earlier, this is poutine, the way my dad makes it...except you guys don’t have a deep fryer, and then I had to get creative with the substitutions...okay, it’s done, you got a fork?”

“But they’re fries, I can’t eat it with my hands?”

“It’ll be really messy, and it’s hot...hang on, I’ll get you one...damn, which drawer was it again...”

When she turns her back to him, he studies the bowl in front of him. It smells too good, and it’s warm...and if it’s really going to be as messy as she says, he’ll clean it up himself...

“Okay, I’ve got _—_ **ah!”**

Beel distantly hears the sound of the fork clattering on the kitchen floor but doesn’t pay attention, he’s too busy licking the now-empty bowl. After he finishes, he lowers the bowl and looks at Salomé, who’s standing stone-still and staring at him with a nervously excited expression.

“...um...so I take it _—_ ”

He burps. “Sorry...” A grin. “...did you buy enough to make seconds?”

All nervousness vanishes, and her face goes pink as she grins, eyes darting downwards in embarrassment. “...hehe, my dad would _love_ you.”

* * *

Lucifer can’t avoid her forever, as much as he would like to, and has successfully managed to do today.

It’s not like she was necessarily wrong to do what she did, to defend herself. He had acted brashly, he knows it. She was right in everything she said _—_ but did she _have_ to say all of it **out loud?** In front of so many people? In front of **Diavolo?** (Yes, she didn’t know he was going to show up. He will conveniently ignore that.) It was as if, using her ability, she had divined what to do to make him feel as terrible as possible...and then did it without a second thought.

He can’t help but think that it was really quite **demonic** of her. Of course, she _had_ said that she’d shared in his sin, that most of that spiel was due to his influence...yet, he can’t help but wonder...

And there’s something else. _That man_ had a ‘Stand’ too. Lucifer shakes his head as he makes his way down the hall. The door to the music room is slightly ajar, and he sighs, diverting slightly to close it.

“ _—_ gonna turn me in? I won’t blame you, after all that happened...what they put you through...”

 _‘Turn me in’?_ Now, what’s _this_ about? He opens the door slightly a bit more, only to find the human he’s been avoiding like the plague sitting on the piano bench with her back to the piano itself, facing the doorway. Facing _him._

Green eyes lock with black and red ones, and Salomé raises an eyebrow at him.

She’s _daring_ him to stay, he’s sure of it.

He grits his teeth. He’s been humiliated by her enough. He enters the room and begins to approach, and she turns her attention back to the call.

“...that means a lot...okay...thanks, I mean it...Yeah...No, somebody just came in...it’ll be fine. Yeah. Yeah, I can. I did, actually...haha, maybe later...Love you too, Papa. Bye.” _Talking to her father..._ She hangs up and then places her human world phone back in her pocket before languidly looking up from her seat at where he’s standing by the side table. « Bonsoir. »

“Good evening, Salomé.”

She spreads her hands, crossing her legs. “Do you want to talk now?” The words are spoken gently. He doesn’t trust them.

“ _Can we sit down at a table and talk this out instead of resorting to violence, now that you’re sedated? You know, like_ ** _mature adults?”_** The mocking words ring through his mind, and he internally grimaces. “Yes.” He braces himself internally before sighing regretfully and just coming out with it. “My attempts on your life yesterday were inexcusable. I apologize.” That’s as genuine as he’ll allow himself to get in front of her. _And you committed no real wrong in defending yourself...as well as Beel and Luke._

Her gaze drops down to straight ahead for a moment as she takes some time to process it, and then she nods. 

“...for a mortal, you’re taking this well.”

A shrug, and then she leans forward in his direction, resting her elbows on her knees. “I get why you acted out like that. Doesn't excuse it, but I get it. Besides, you’re not the first to try, and you won’t be the last. Like I said, my existence is a dangerous one. I’ve met a lot of...strange people, to put it lightly. Some who let their own power **go to their heads, thinking they can use it for whatever they want.”** He feels like a pair of eyes are burning into the back of his skull. She clicks her tongue against her teeth. _“Shame.”_

The eyes **are** on him, he knows it. “Salomé, is your Stand out?”

“She’s **been** out for the past ten minutes.” The human points to a spot behind and above his head, and instinctively he raises his gaze before remembering he cannot see her. “Just straight vibing. 「LOVE ON ME」, won’t you come down to say hello?”

He’s not exactly sure what to expect, but he definitely knows he wasn’t expecting the touch of a _hand—_ no temperature, no solidity, but definitely present _—_ to brush through his hair and another hand to lightly tap his shoulder. He remembers what she said, that this is not an ability best suited for a fight, and in this moment he knows it to be true. 「LOVE ON ME」, though a killer should her User decide to use her in such a manner, is _gentle._ It’s not a bad feeling, per se _—_ miles different from and much more welcome than the hand that had grabbed at his throat and gagged him _—_ but he doesn’t trust it.

It’s awkward. He feels like he should say something back. “...hello, 「LOVE ON ME」.”

The hand running through his hair lightly taps the top of his head once in acknowledgment before disappearing, and a happy little giggle escapes Salomé. “She’s glad you responded.” 

A realization suddenly hits him. She, essentially, _is_ 「LOVE ON ME」. She can **s** **ee through her eyes, can hear through her ears, and is capable, to an unknown extent, of sending her away to control remotely** ...a chill. _No. Surely not._ He remembers the eyes then _—_ the invisible gaze he felt piercing him the night he’d told her to go back to her room. Just like the gaze he’d felt on him mere moments before. And she’d pacted Mammon and Levi, and now he can detect faint traces of Beel’s magic on her as well...

“Salomé, there is one thing I must make absolutely clear.”

“Shoot.”

“As long as they consent to it, I have no problem with you making pacts with my brothers. However, **don’t assume you can use your Stand to mess with areas you shouldn’t.** I _know_ that you had her watching me that night on the stairs.”

Her gaze turns clueless. “The...what?” 

_...you can’t be serious._

She blinks at him for a few moments before her eyes light up. “...oh, right! Well, you practically _teleported_ there, remember? I didn’t even hear you coming. So I wanted to see if you would do it again...but you just ran upstairs, so I just called her back to me.” A shrug. “Your business is your business.”

Had she been powerless, he’d accept that. But unfortunately, she isn’t, so he doesn’t trust it for a millisecond.

“I’m the only demon able to go up there, there’s a spell cast on the stairs that ensures that. Unfortunately, it only works on demons. Humans and angels are still able to pass...and I suppose the courtesy would extend to _human ghosts_ as well...curiosity killed the cat, Salomé. If you behave yourself, you’ll complete your year here in the exchange program. At which point, we’ll return you to the human world.”

She groans and rubs at her temples, at which he raises his eyebrows. “I’m, eh...trying to phrase this as diplomatically as I possibly can...” A sharp intake of breath through the teeth as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “...Lucifer, **you** **severely overestimate how much I care.** Yeah, that works. You severely overestimate how much I care about what’s up there and the internal workings of your family. I’m not here because I want to be, as you said, I’m here because I have to be _—_ I have literally zero reasons to _give a shit about your secrets, and therefore, I_ ** _don’t._** ”

He feels himself blink like a fish. She says it so _smoothly,_ as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. _Almost too smoothly._ **That’s a good thing. It should be a good thing.** Despite her power, she knows to mind her own business. But why does it feel like a **gut punch?** It shouldn’t feel that way. He feels like **another presence** is in the room with them...but it doesn’t feel like her Stand. This presence feels _familiar yet alien,_ but more than anything else, it feels...mournful, regretful, weighing on him. It’s downright _oppressive_ on him, Lucifer can feel it practically seeping into his bones. He wonders why she doesn’t appear to be affected.

“I feel like you’re **baiting** me, Lucifer. Is that it? If so, **I don’t care for it.”** She’s standing now; in fact, she’s standing directly in front of him, close enough to take up the majority of his line of sight but still maintaining a respectful distance. “You bring up this attic that I’ve told you before that I don’t really want to go into. I’ve never stepped foot in the room going up those stairs since you told me that you didn’t want me there, and I respect that. So...why?” She takes a step closer, now in his personal space, steepling her fingers below her chin as she stares up at him, glassy-eyed, a tiny, toothy grin fixed on her face. “Do you just want to catch me or my Stand up there so you have a **legitimate excuse to hurt me?** Or rather, _is there actually something up there that I should care about?”_

The demon takes a step forward himself, so now they’re literally toe-to-toe. He can feel her breathing as she tilts her head up a little further to look up at him, that damned infuriating smile still dancing across her lips. She’s fragile, compared to him, with bones of a songbird compared to him. Lucifer could crush her if he were to catch her off-guard. Yet, how could something so delicate possess such a power, so strong as to even render the Demon Prince himself putty in her hands? **_“No. To both of those statements.”_ ** He’d be lying if he said that the first option isn’t tempting, but the fact that she is capable of fighting back to begin with puts a damper on it...as well as the fact that she was willing to reveal her ability, put her life on the line, all to protect his younger brother. He’d rather die than admit that, though. (If only it hadn’t been against _him,_ he’d think it very admirable of her.) That second theory though...that’s concerning. Lucifer knows he needs to nip that theory (that he’s accidentally planted in her mind) in the bud.

“If you were to be so _foolish_ as to go up there yourself, there’s nothing at all at the top of those stairs.” He’s aware of how stupid this sounds, how it’s essentially invalidated all of his warnings. He can handle it. After what she did to him in front of Lord Diavolo, he’d like to think he can handle a lot of things.

 **Salomé laughs in his face.** It’s not a particularly mean or mocking laugh, nor is it unpleasant, but there’s something about it that catches him off-guard and causes his face to heat up in anger(?). Maybe it’s their proximity. It’s all he hears ringing in his ears. They were close, but they weren't _this_ close before, he's sure of it. All there is in his field of vision is her laughing face. When did they get so close? “So let me get this straight _—_ you grandstand to me _three times_ about how you don’t want me up there, telling me it’s dangerous, apparently putting all these precautious spells on the damn thing, only to reveal straight up that _nothing’s fucking there?”_ The human fondly claps him on the shoulder, and he can barely stop himself from _jumping._ She shakes her head, gracefully sidesteps him, and begins to make her way to the door. “You’re a funny one, I’ll give you that,” she demurs, “But like I said _—_ **I don’t give a flying fuck** about what’s up there. Whether it really is some big danger or nothing at all. I like living my life, as you know firsthand when you threatened it.” Her gaze softens a bit as she swings the door open fully, looking at him over her shoulder. “Look. I’m going to be living here with you for the rest of the year whether you like it or not. It would be best if we didn’t have an adversarial relationship. So how’s this: you don’t threaten my life, I don’t use 「LOVE ON ME」to defend myself. I don’t go up into the attic, you don’t get to inflict whatever horrible punishment you have in mind. We survive the year. _Simple as that._ Okay?”

Oh, the things he would do to this mortal had she been powerless and not under Diavolo’s protection. 

* * *

“Salomé, are you awake?” Beel asks into the dark, looking out from the couch over at _—_ his? Her? _(Their?)—_ bed. The human resting on it doesn’t respond. _Maybe she’s asleep._ He doesn’t smell her Stand either. He lets another moment pass waiting for her to respond, only to find himself getting off of the couch and walking over to her.

Evidently, she’s sleeping on her stomach tonight. “...Salomé,” he tries again, reaching forward and tapping the side of her forehead, at which she grunts and swats ineffectively at him, the one eye that he can see scrunching up. “I need you to listen to what I’ve got to say,” the demon says, and finally that single green eye opens, blearily blinking at him.

He’s expecting to hear a _what is it_ or _is something wrong?_ Instead, what comes out is a:

“...mmm...’ _ey, gray sweatpants_...”

He blinks. “What about my sweatpants?”

Her eyes go wide as she sits up quickly, her face bright red. “Uh, um—never mind that. What’s up?”

“...you said you knew about my nightmares and that you used your Stand on me because of them, remember?”

“Ah shit, did you have another one?” She asks, her face losing its blush and immediately growing concerned. He shakes his head. “...do you want to tell me what happens in them?” To that, Beel nods and sits on the edge of the bed as she moves further towards the center to give him space.

“Long ago, back when we were in the Celestial Realm, I asked her a question: _Lilith, if you had to choose between saving either me or Belphie, who would it be?_ She...” Maybe if he was looking closer, he would have noticed how Salomé twitches uncomfortably again. “...she just looked at me and said, ‘both of you!’ Now, everything I just told you really did happen…but when I dream about it, it doesn’t end there. Lilith and Belphie disappear, and I’m left all alone. Everything is pitch-black, and suddenly I’m falling. Falling down through a void...”

She’s silent. He knows that she knows he’s going somewhere with this, so he decides to just go out with it. “Salomé...would it be okay if I held your hand? Just for a little bit, until I fall asleep.”

Her eyebrows raise, but she nods in assent, scooting further towards the middle of the bed to give him some more space, and when he rises from his sitting position, Salomé lifts her arm, raising the blanket with it so he can get under it with her. He lies down flat on his back, and her hand comes up to entwine with his. It’s warm.

“Hey, Beel.”

“What?”

“The statue in the tomb that holds the grimoire. Is that of her?” She doesn’t need to say her name.

He nods, and he could swear that she actually _grimaces_ for a millisecond, but he blinks and it’s gone. Instead, she makes a noise of assent. “...you want to talk about her more?”

“Lilith...” Beel pauses. How to begin? “...was like the sun. She was bright and warm. Her laugh always lit up every room she entered...Belphegor would tell you that she was weird, but she just had such a unique outlook on life, especially humans. She would always tell me, _‘Beel, you know those humans down there? We aren’t so different from them. We’re just as flawed and emotional as them.’_ Lucifer used to always chastise her for saying stuff like that. I just thought it was Lilith being Lilith...but now I think she was right.”

She squeezes his hand. “Quite the _interesting_ lady, then...goodnight, Beel.”

“Goodnight, Salomé...”

* * *

It’s happening again. _“Lilith, if you had to choose between saving either me or Belphie, who would it be?”_

She smiles widely, eyes crinkling shut. _“Both of you!”_ And like always, just like that, she and Belphie disappear. He awaits the darkness, he awaits the fall.

But...they don’t come. Instead, there is light, and he is rising.

“...Beel. Beel.”

She sounds like she’s speaking from behind him, but even as he turns around wildly, he cannot see her. “...Lillith? Where are you?”

“You’ve got to help him...you’ve got to help Belphie...”

He stiffens automatically. “What’s happening to him? _How?”_

“...Salomé. You have to trust Salomé to help him. She’s reluctant, and for good reasons, but you have to have faith in her. Please.”

“...I will.”

“Promise me, Beel. Promise you’ll help him.”

“I promise...Lilith...”

Groaning and the feeling of something lightly hitting him on the chest snaps him out of his dream, and he’s staring up at the ceiling... “...mmgh...making noises again,” the human next to him whines sleepily as she stops pushing him.

“Oh...I guess I was dreaming.”

“The dream you told me about?” Salomé mutters at his side, eyes still closed. He hears his sister’s voice ringing through his mind. _Have faith in her._

“This wasn’t the usual dream. This one was different.”

Green eyes open at this, and she sits up slightly. “Oh yeah? You wanna talk about it?”

Beel hesitates. _She has good reasons to be reluctant._ If he told her, could that make her even _more_ reluctant? “...no.”

She yawns. “Ok then. I’m here if you want to.”

“...Do you think it could’ve been because you were here, Salomé?” he asks the bleary-eyed human, who merely grunts and shrugs, lying back down, this time on her side, and grabbing his hand to hold again. “I’ve never heard of anything like that happening...but honestly? While I was passed out yesterday, I somehow astrally projected to see Bice. I can accept a dream being different because of someone else’s presence.”

 _Bice? Who’s Bice?_ He’s going to ask her, but then her eyes close again. His eyes then flicker to the ceiling, only to close as he tries to drift off to sleep, despite how unsettled he feels. _Help Belphie._ Help Belphie do **what?** Is that why he hadn’t received word from him? What **danger** is his twin in? Several unsuccessful minutes later, he feels the human’s hand touch his chest, right above his heart, and he opens his eyes to find her slightly leaning over him.

“...you’re agitated,” she murmurs, to which he nods. “Um...you want me to, uh...sing you back to sleep or something? I can use 「LOVE ON ME」too...”

Sing? Right, she sang a little bit (to tease Mammon) back at Ristorante Six, as well as earlier in the kitchen. Even though she’d clearly been joking around, _he_ had meant it when he’d said she’d sounded nice. “...okay.”

She lies back down, squeezing his hand once before closing her eyes. _« ..._ _Des fraises, des cerises, un baiser d'ange au printemps...Mon vin d'été a toutes ces saveurs en même temps... »_ It’s slow and gentle, and the scent of flowers fills his nostrils as he feels a vine wrap around his head. He allows his eyes to close.

_“I walked in town on silver spurs that jingled to_

_A song that I had only sang to just a few_

_She saw my silver spurs and said let's pass some time_

_And I will give to you summer wine_

_Hmm-mm, summer wine...”_

The scent is nice and her voice is clear and soft. There’s a strange sensation that he realizes a second later is fingers running through his hair. There’s no warmth radiating off of them, so he figures that it must be 「LOVE ON ME」. Two creatures in one body, yet not. One and the same. He doesn’t really care. All he knows as he drifts off to sleep is that he likes them both.

 _«_ _Des fraises, des cerises, un baiser d'ange au printemps_

_Mon vin d'été a toutes ces saveurs en même temps_

_Enlève tes éperons, fais-moi tout oublier_

_Et je te donnerai du vin d'été_

_Hmm-mm, du vin d'été... »_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> salomé covers sublime's _santeria_ and the alex kapranos & clara luciani version of _summer wine_. pls go listen to them, they slap.
> 
> anyway! updates on this fic are probably gonna get slightly slower because i'm gonna be uploading/revamping old stories i never published/deleted on this account as well as trying to branch out a bit. i'm not abandoning this, though, don't worry!
> 
> \--  
> « Alors, elle a un...Stand? » = So, she has a...Stand?
> 
> « Je suis sûr qu'elle est belle, » = I'm sure that she's beautiful.
> 
>  **note: this is not a direct translation, i'm just putting the original english lyrics:** « Des fraises, des cerises, un baiser d'ange au printemps/Mon vin d'été a toutes ces saveurs en même temps/Enlève tes éperons, fais-moi tout oublier/Et je te donnerai du vin d'été/Hmm-mm, du vin d'été... » = Strawberries, cherries, and an angel's kiss in spring/My summer wine is really made from all these things/Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time/And I will give to you summer wine/Hmm-mm, summer wine...


	12. This House is a Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salomé has an unexpected connection to one of Satan's favorite authors. Abyzou has brought 'fun things' to a rare house party at the House of Lamentation. Meridiana has a religious delusion. Solomon has 'potential'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW: RECREATIONAL DRUG USE (specifically, hallucinogenic Devildom mushrooms that I created), HALLUCINATIONS.** If those are triggers for you, do **not** read Abyzou and Meridiana's sections--and arguably, Solomon's too. If you're wondering why this chapter took so long, blame it on that sequence lmfao. As a result of the shrooms, I have upped the rating to M, just to be safe.
> 
> **spoilers for the devilgram for the "let your hair down" ur memory card.**
> 
> chapter title comes from the arctic monkeys song of the same name. (also i'm not sorry, this is _not_ going to be the last arctic monkeys reference in this thing.)

_Belphegor,_

_Sorry that you had to wait so long for a response. A lot of things have happened down here in the interim, and it wasn’t safe for me to attempt delivery. But since things have started to calm down a bit, I think I can start to do this more often._

_I have pacts with Mammon, Levi, and now Beel. Beel especially misses you a lot—he’s told me he’s got dreams with you in them. Sometimes, even during the day, he just goes quiet and starts staring into space, and it’s pretty obvious that he’s thinking about you. I had to stay in your guys’ room for a week after he destroyed the kitchen and the wall between it and my room, and he barely even touched your side of the room. I didn’t either, don’t worry. I think he wants to keep it as pristine as possible for when you ‘come back.’ He even tried talking to Lucifer last week, trying to take ‘your’ place in the exchange program so you could be ‘back’ here in the Devildom. I wonder, then—what exactly_ ** _are_ ** _Lucifer’s plans when the year ends?_

 _But you didn’t respond to hear me ruminate about that. I have decided to help you. Don’t get it twisted, though: I’m doing this for_ **_Beel’s benefit._ ** _He has proven himself to be a very kind and caring individual, and I like him a lot. You’re very lucky to have somebody like him for a twin._

_Hope you like the sushi. Let me know if you want anything else, I’ll try to get it through. I’ll try to get to your responses at least once a day, around 11 PM, and get back to you the following day._

_—Salomé_

* * *

There’s a knock at his door at the agreed-upon-time, and Satan calls out a “Come in.” The Stand User enters with a smile, and he shuts the book he’s been reading ( _This Cold Heaven: Seven Seasons in Greenland_ ) and puts it on an adjacent table. “Ah, Salomé. I trust you had no trouble getting here?”

“What, trouble from Lucifer? No. He’s avoiding me like the plague.”

He barely bites back a laugh at that. The most high-and-mighty of them all, scuttling away from a gifted human, as a mouse does with a cat. “Good, good...are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. What have you come up with—oh, _woah.”_ Her eyes flit around his impressive book collection, and he feels a bit of pride swell up in him at her amazement. “What’s your system here...?”

“My system?”

“Of like...organization. How do you know where everything is? Is it alphabetically sorted, or by genre? Or is it like, one of those things where you know exactly where everything is, but there’s no real rhyme or reason to it to an outsider?”

“The latter,” he replies politely, to which she lets out a low whistle as she sits down cross-legged on the floor. “Impressive.”

“Do you read a lot, Salomé?”

“Well...not as much as I did when I was younger. Work and life and all that. I do some editing, though...and before you ask, _yes._ I’ve read _the play._ Saw the opera too.”

“Are you complaining about the association? You shouldn’t. It’s a beautifully-written work.”

“Okay, how do I explain...mmm...how do you feel about _Paradise Lost?”_

He makes a face in distaste, to which she points at him and says “Yeah, see, that’s exactly what I mean.”

Satan shakes his head. “Anyway...is 「LOVE ON ME」out?”

“Yup. Say hi!” An invisible hand lightly taps his head. It’s not particularly uncomfortable, but it catches him off-guard anyway. It’s strange to talk to something he can’t see, but he knows he needs to stay on her good side if he wants her assistance. “...hi, 「LOVE ON ME」.”

The hand thus lightly ruffles his hair. “Can you feel that?” he asks Salomé, and she nods. “Yeah, even though I’m not making her do that. It’s a phantom sensation.”

 _Not making her do that...does that mean..._ “Are you saying she’s _sentient?”_

“Right on the nose. She speaks her own words as well as the words I want to say, and can act on her own in my benefit.”

Now, why hadn’t she said this to Lord Diavolo? “Are all Stands sentient?”

“No. I’ve met other people with Stands that are on like...varying levels, but most tend to just mindlessly obey, from what I’ve seen. 「LOVE ON ME」is one of the most...aware ones I’ve met.”

_So she’s special, even among these special people. A very special soul...even more so, considering how she’s gotten three pacts under her belt in no time at all...strange thing, just what are you plotting?_

“Uh, Satan...you good?”

“Hm? Oh, yes. I’ve got her first test, now that you’ve said she’s sentient...” He looks around. “Tell her to...find a book from the human world. You’re not allowed to help her, no looking through her eyes or anything.”

The human raises an eyebrow, and then _This Cold Heaven: Seven Seasons in Greenland_ starts floating. He groans, and she snickers. “Clever, but I didn’t mean _that_. It’s too easy.”

“She knows, she was just playing with you,” Salomé hums, and the book is placed back down, and the Stand presumably goes off to find another. “Reading about Greenland today, huh? Where’d you find that?”

It doesn’t sound like she’s particularly suspicious of him. “There’s a store here that sells books from the human world, and when you mentioned Greenland that night in the library, I got curious, that’s all. This was the only book they had on it.” Unfortunately, so far, he had found no mention of the meteorite crash site, and he doubts that it would talk about the abilities it grants people—but perhaps he can find an exact location from it. Regardless, he’s become curious about the large, cold country anyway. “Did you know that from May 25th to July 25th, the sun never sets there? Just like the Celestial Realm.”

“Really? Ah, right, the midnight sun, they must have some seriously strong blinds over there, like in the territories and Alaska...wait, you say the sun never sets in the Celestial Realm either?”

“The Celestial Realm is the polar opposite of the Devildom. So while we have no sunlight at any time, they have all the sunlight, all the time.”

“So that places the human world in the middle, I guess? Because we have the sun for half of the time?”

“Yes, that’s appropriate—” He’s cut off by the feeling of a ghostly hand tapping his head from behind. Satan looks up to see a book’s cover. Just as ordered, a novel by a human author: Yves Desjardins’s _Melancholia._ His eyebrows lift at the Stand’s choice. “Yves Desjardins, huh...?”

She nods somewhat slowly, a small grin on her face and a sparkle in her eye. “Yeah. Are you a fan?”

He nods very seriously, and he barely notices how she has to hold back her proud smile. “He’s very talented, his writing style is seriously unique—I own all his books...unfortunately, I had to get _Black Water_ as an eBook, but that’s neither here nor there...” He takes _Melancholia_ from the Stand’s hands, eyes gazing over the cover. “I remember...there was a large gap between when this book was published and when his next one was...I heard it was something about him being accused of his wife’s murder...” If Satan wasn’t looking at the book’s cover, he’d notice how the smile has dropped from her face and her lips are pursed, eyes vacant. “They never did convict him, I think...”

“Public opinion sure did, for a while.” The words come out calm, but with a sharp undertone, and Satan looks up in surprise. Her fists are clenched.

“Do you know him...personally?”

She raises her eyebrows and sighs, kneeling down directly in front of him and flipping the book open to the dedication page. His eyes widen and his lips purse as he reads what it says.

**_For my wife, Lilou, and my daughter, Salomé._ **

It hits him like a semi-truck. _Ah. How awkward._ This isn’t good _at all,_ considering how he needs her assistance regarding all of this Stand business. “Salomé, I—”

“It’s fine, you didn’t know, which is _infinitely_ better than if you knew and spoke about it in front of me,” she says with a shrug and a sigh. “But disregarding all that nastiness, I think he’d be really flattered that you like his stuff...hey, actually—” She meets his gaze “—Solomon did something to my phone which lets me talk to people back in the human world. So, if you want, and if the times line up, I’m okay with arranging a call, if you want to talk to him...just don’t mention _the thing..._ ”

Satan blinks in surprise, excitement beginning to build up. “You could do that? Isn’t he busy?”

She grins crookedly. “Oh yeah, don’t worry about it, he’d be happy to!...once he processes all of this, you know,” She waves her hands around “...all this magic stuff, which honestly might take a while...alright then. Now, what else have you got in mind for 「LOVE ON ME」here?”

* * *

_BAD BITCHES:_

**Salomé:**

>partycrackerdemoji.png  
>party at HoL tonight, and you’re all invited!

**Abyzou:**

>srsly? alright!  
>cheerdemoji.png

**Meridiana:**

>how did you get Lucifer to agree?  
>especially after...all that 2 weeks ago...

**Salomé:**

>oh, he doesn’t know.  
>the big 3 are gonna be out all day and night,  
so asmo is throwing a house party. man even hired  
caterers, which is why beel is down with it too.  
>asmo’s calling it “Candy Night”.

**Tunrida:**

>thnx, but no thnx.  
>i’m really in the zone tonight w/ this piece.  
  
 **Salomé:**

>you sure?

**Tunrida:**

>yeah. but thanks for thinking of me.  
>sunsmiledemoji.png

**Abyzou:**

>your loss, tunri!  
>we’ll be there at 9:00.  
>i’ll bring along something fun.  
>mischievouslaughterdemoji.png

* * *

The party is already wild when Meridiana and Abyzou arrive and exchange some pleasantries with some friends and acquaintances as they make their way through the house, briefly swinging by some of the food tables to grab some things to eat. Abyzou hadn’t told Meridiana what exactly she’d brought, but the succubus has some idea. She’s not usually one to partake in that sort of fun, but tonight, at a once-in-a-thousand-years house party at the home of the Devildom’s most powerful demons...and with a human exchange student who brings up good memories of a man long gone...she’ll certainly go for it.

The succubus and the snake demon finally spot their human friend in the living room, wearing an oversized blue hoodie, black shorts, black thigh high socks, and black-and-white ankle boots with _MONCLER_ embroidered on the back. She’s speaking to Solomon, the sorcerer grinning slyly and saying something to make her laugh as the demons approach.

 _“Absolutely the fuck noooot,”_ Abyzou calls out as she grabs Salomé around the shoulders, pulling the human female backward away from Solomon so her back is pressed against the snake demon’s chest. “Hey, you guys made it—!”

“Yeah, yeah. **Where’s your bedroom?”** the green-haired demon asks.

“Where’s my— **eh?** ” Salomé’s eyes go wide, a light pink dusting her cheeks and one of those _‘ooh-did-I-just-fuckin-hear-that-right’_ incredulous smiles. “Oh _wow,”_ Solomon drawls out, eyebrows raised, a mischievous smile dancing across his own lips, to which Abyzou hisses like a viper and flips him off. “Not for _that,_ weirdo—and I’d bet you’d like to _watch_ if it was! Nasty ass motherfucker!”

Meridiana steps in now. « Abyzou a apporté quelques...trucs _spéciaux,_ tu sais? » she whispers into Salomé’s ear. It takes the human a second, but when it clicks, she grins wickedly, the blush fading, and untangles herself from the snake demon. “Later, Solomon,” she breezily bids farewell to the sorcerer before motioning for the two demonesses to follow her out of the living room, through the dining room, and past the kitchen, which is busy with caterers. She removes a key from her pocket and unlocks the door, and the lights come up inside.

“...the fuck you have a tree in here for?” Abyzou asks, brow furrowed, as she walks past said tree to sit down at the large table. “A dining room set too...” Meridiana muses as she also enters, coming to sit cross-legged on a large violet pillow lying on the floor by the bed.

Salomé sighs, locking the door after them, and throws up her hands helplessly as she sits on her pink bed. “It came this way! I ask myself why Lucifer has a fucking BDSM skeleton in his room just as much!”

Meridiana feels her jaw drop as Abyzou starts cackling, almost choking on her food. “A fuckin’ what?!”

“You heard me! It’s just...hanging in a corner of his room, up like—” she mimes the position, hands restrained above her head and knees raised, and Meridiana has to take several seconds to process it (she doesn’t look half-bad like that, not at all) as Abyzou keeps howling. “But there’s another tree in the house too, you can see it from the second-floor hallway...man, I’ve given up on questioning the decor here!”

“Can we...go see it? The skeleton? Because he’s not home?”

“Are you crazy? He’s probably got a spell to teleport him here instantly if someone goes into his room if he’s not home.” The demonesses groan in disappointment. “So, Abyzou...what’s this special stuff you’ve brought?”

Abyzou holds up a finger as she finishes up her drink, only to put her glass down and come to flop down on her stomach on Salomé’s bed. “You ate before, right? It’s not good to take these on an empty stomach, you might get sick. And before you ask—these are totally safe for human consumption, I’ve checked. Plus, Solomon took them once before his big immortality fuck up, and was totally fine.”

“Yeah, I ate...”

“Okay then.” The snake demon reaches into her seafoam green leather jacket’s inside pocket and pulls out a small plastic bag, and Meridiana gasps as Salomé’s brow furrows at what’s in it.

“...fuzzy blue mushrooms? Are these illegal?”

 _“Abyzou!”_ the succubus hisses, eyes wide. “Where did you even _get_ those? They’re super rare!”

“They’re Nymph’s Breath, and _technically_ not,” Abyzou informs the human casually before turning back to her housemate. “I’ve had ‘em for a while, actually. Was waiting for a good time to bring ‘em out.”

“Where were you keeping them before tonight?!”

“In my void.”

“In your _what?”_ Salomé questions. “My void. It’s like...a magical storage locker. It’s a super easy spell to cast, only the caster can access it, really great for storing precious items...anyway, are you down, ‘lomé?”

“What do they do?” the human murmurs as she picks one of them up in her palm—it’s the width of two Grimm.

“Works similar to how human world shrooms work, even though these only grow in the Devildom. You take one—swallow it whole, don’t chew—then you kick back. Hallucinate some bullshit, say some weird things, act like a clown, come out of it dehydrated like you’ve spent two days in the desert with no water. Has a milder effect on humans...more like, I think you guys call them edibles?...when in comparison to shrooms. Not exactly like them, though, there are some differences. So? Are you curious~?”

Meridiana rolls her eyes. “Abyzou, don’t pressure—” She hears swallowing, and turns just in time to see Salomé empty-handed and gulping down the mushroom. _Somehow I feel like I should’ve expected that._ “What? I’ve done edibles before. Stronger stuff too, though that’s at raves and music festivals. Absolutely immaculate.”

The snake demon grins and nods before taking one herself. “Wait, you go to raves?”

“Yeah, I do. Are they a thing down here?”

“You bet! We should go—Meridiana?”

The succubus stares at her roommate for a moment. “Are you asking me to go to the rave or to take the mushroom?”

“The former, but now that you bring it up, are you going to? Because if not it’s going back in the void...don’t just do it because we did, though, okay?”

Meridiana snorts. “And miss out on these things that grow once every 500 years? Absolutely not—Salomé, ne fais pas ce visage, ils ne pourrissent pas. Ça va. Ils deviennent plus puissants avec l'âge, comme le vin. »

“Fuck yeah,” Abyzou cheers as Salomé picks up the last mushroom and says “Aaaah...” Meridiana mirrors her, and the human deftly tosses it into her mouth, and she swallows. No going back now.

“So will you go, Meridiana?”

“To a rave? Sure, just let me know when.”

Her friends grin widely, and then Abyzou turns to Salomé. “Now that’s taken care of...did you hear? They’re saying there’s gonna be a dance at the Demon Lord’s castle in two weeks—and the exchange students!”

The human sits up, surprised. “Seriously? And this is going to be like...black-tie, I take it?”

Both demons nod, and she groans. “Guess it’s time to get a new dress...I mean, I already have one that I brought with me in case there was a party in London, but then, well, I never made it to London...”

« Pourrait-on la voir? »

« Oui, donne moi une minute... » She reaches under her pillow and pulls out her human world phone, tapping on it for a bit before holding it out, showing a picture of her on one side of a young human male, with that Satan-looking blonde girl on his other side, all grinning at the camera at some expensive-looking party. “This was in Madrid last year.”

« C'est un décolleté très bas, » Meridiana comments wryly, raising her eyebrows with a smirk at Salomé.

“...super high slit in the side too...did not think you were the type, but hey, you look great,” Abyzou comments with a low whistle, to which the human rolls her eyes, light pink dusting her cheeks. “Yeah, yeah. I thought the hat, and the gloves, and neckline were too much—”

“Is it really a neckline at the point where it goes past your _navel?_ Kidding, kidding! They work great, don’t worry. You look like a femme fatale. Who’s that guy, though?”

“That’s my friend Oz! We’re best friends, really, we go _way_ back—he was the first Stand User around my age that I met as a kid, you know?”

« Sur cette photo, il semble que vous et Béatrice êtes _ses_ copines. »

« Ah, non. Notre relation était comme ça... » Salomé takes her human world phone and scrolls through a few more images. “Here.” She then shows them a picture of her kissing Beatrice and holding a drink in the other hand, and Oz leaning over to drink out of the glass with a straw, to which the demons start laughing. “Nothing going on between all three of us at all besides him stealing my cocktail—but yeah, not very appropriate for a demon party, I’m guessing?”

“I can tell you right now there are succubi with more risque, to be polite, outfits—Meridiana don’t look at me like that, I know yours isn’t—but I can also see why you wouldn’t wanna risk it...first time at one of these, after all.”

« Je t'emmène faire du shopping lundi, après les cours. »

« Vraiment? Merci beaucoup! »

“H-hey...’lomé...I tho-thought you were showing us...a picture...why is it moving?”

“It is...?” A slow smile suddenly grows on the human’s freckled face. “Oooh...it’s kicking in, huh? That was _quick!_ ”

“Fast little fuckers,” Abyzou mutters, suddenly grasping onto her roommate’s wrist. “Meri...they’re _fast.”_

“Really? Because it’s not...” The tree in the room starts growing, branches spreading out throughout the room. The leaves fall, turning to the petals of a mirage flower, which bloom and inch their way towards her. The wood of the tree suddenly changes to black, as if it’s been burned, and Meridiana feels her eyes go wide. “...not...doing...any...thing...for...for...”

* * *

The beating of hummingbirds' wings reverberates through her ears as the feeling of a large white furry snake makes its way around her limbs. She’s watching the bug-eyed pink worm-like dragons do flamenco across the open, grass-green and blue sky dotted with silver stars. There’s a strong scent of vanilla with a hint of jasmine. Meridiana’s pretty sure that several millennia have passed since...since what? It doesn’t matter. She feels great.

New music floats through the air, someone singing, and faint guitar and drums accompanying. Her eyes drift from the dance to the side of the room where it’s coming from. It’s all so _bright._ The human, sitting on her side, is half-pressed up against the mirror and singing to herself. White lilies are coming out of her mouth.

_« Le soleil n'est pas fait pour nous;_

_C'est la nuit qu'on peut tricher._

_Toi qui ce soir a tout perdu,_

_Demain tu peux gagner... »_

The music changes too, from guitar and drums to something similar, but more...ancient. Familiar. The human begins to change in the mirror. She morphs, figure and face changing into that of a man, hair growing shorter and darker, clothes changing into something much more simple and rustic, and lastly, her voice drops several octaves, and sings to the same tune, in the version of the language she’s most familiar with:

_« O, mere, di le aus anfaz_

_De ne pas feire com moi_

_Pechiez tout au lonc de vos tristes vies_

_La ou le Soleil feict loy... »_

It’s him in the mirror. Doubtless, doubtless, there he is, the cunning young human man from the Cantal that’s been dead for a thousand years looking like the day she had offered her pact, the man who she...

It means something. It has to mean something. These similarities cannot be pointless—the shared tongue, their shared cunning, the same prideful gleam in the eye, the same hometown, his face as her reflection. This human is tied to the one she loved, somehow. Why else would they have been brought close together?

She somehow gets up from the bed, running (or at least, she’s trying to run, it feels like she’s running through quicksand), and tripping over a huge, lime-green python that angrily hisses out a _“Meri!”._ She fumbles around on the floor towards the human, and after a hundred years, throws her arms around her shoulders, (she smells like sea salt) staring desperately into the mirror. Gerbert D’Aurillac, Pope Sylvester II, smiles at her sympathetically, eyes closing, and then he reaches for her from the other side: but before she can even reach forward, his form bursts into two hundred yellow and white hummingbirds.

Meridiana starts screaming—or at least, she thinks she is. Her mouth is open, but any noise is muffled. It smells like sulfur. She’s going to kill Abyzou.

Cool hands are shaking her shoulders. “...‘diana, ‘diana, you okay?” She turns and goes still.

There is no longer a human sitting by her side. Instead, there is a **doll** —wearing the human’s clothes, and with her hair, but with painted features (with green eyes too big), delicately sculpted from porcelain, and spheres serving as joints. It’s incredibly unsettling.

A porcelain ball-jointed doll, hers to make into whatever she wants...

...to _dress_ in whatever she wants. To see...

« Mets-toi à genoux, » the succubus murmurs. The doll obeys, facing the swirling mirror, and her convictions are further sealed as Meridiana stands up on shaky legs. It takes three thousand years to stand. 

Very gently, Meridiana takes hold of the doll’s hair tie and lowers it, slowly undoing her high ponytail. She has such lovely hair. It suddenly liquifies in her tawny hands, turning to silver mercury cascading down the doll’s back and flooding the immediate area around them. It feels cool on her skin as she runs her fingers through it.

“...mmm...’diana...you’re just gonna...gonna keep doing that?” 

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t tempted to. But there is something to do, something of pressing importance.

Somehow, she gets her magical void open. Somehow, there’s an over-a-thousand-year-old Catholic pallium in her hands. Somehow, muscle memory, she supposes, it goes around the doll’s shoulders in the fashion she saw him wear. Somehow, there’s a white-and-gold bejeweled papal tiara in her hands (she’s very careful not to touch the diamond-encrusted crucifix at the very top—even in this state, she knows that if she does, the burning sensation will cause her to drop the priceless, thousand-year-old artifact). Somehow, she’s placing it onto the doll’s head of flowing, shining mercury—and it fits. The doll’s jaw is slightly open, and violets grow from her throat and out of her mouth.

Yes, the crown and pallium do suit her well, even though such things were never intended for a woman (doll) to wear, much less for a succubus to steal and hide in a magical storage locker. It fits. It’s all coming together.

« ...cos'è questo? » the doll asks, voice barely above a whisper as if she’s afraid that if her voice gets any louder, the tiara will fall and break.

 _Ah...that’s...the language spoken in Rome...surely! Surely, this must mean..._ « ...Questo... » Meridiana pauses. She’s not sure if she’s speaking to her new friend or her long-dead lover. _Both, one and the same._ Her hand drifts down to play with the mercury flowing from the doll’s scalp. « ...si tratta di un tentativo di estrarre la verità...all’incirca. »

An eternity passes.

“Wanna...” The doll’s porcelain ball-jointed hand suddenly grabs her wrist, and it’s cool against her skin. “Wanna...watch the sun...sun...rise...with you...” The doll points haphazardly at the lightening, colorful ceiling, then stands, grabbing Meridiana’s forearms, and the succubus is stumbling backward, then they’re falling, and she’s overwhelmed with the scent of violets.

The sun takes a thousand years to rise, all oranges and pinks and purples and reds and yellows, and it smells like a human world summer, all grass and rain and sun and pine needles. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever experienced. She wants to stay like this forever.

Then, a hand is shaking her. She blinks several times and then realizes she’s lying half-upside down on the edge of the bed. There’s no sun in the room. Salomé is kneeling by her side on the bed, fully human, and Abyzou is sitting up on the floor, blearily blinking, looking like a mess. The human’s D.D.D. is on her lap, next to the papal tiara and pallium. The phone is open to a group chat.

“Sh...shit, Lucifer’s coming...you gotta leave!”

“Buh—” Abyzou points at her. “Wh’ 'bout you?”

“I...I...mmm, shit, gonna...do laundry. Bath. ‘diana...” Her fingers tap the crown. “...your void...”

* * *

Their hosts for the night—Asmodeus, Satan, and Beel—are quite obviously drunk. “Just look at those three,” he comments to Simeon. “They seem like they’re having a blast.”

The angel laughs gently. “I guess they’re a really tight-knit bunch, huh? I bet it would be fun to observe them—to watch how they interact with each other.”

Solomon hums in agreement. The three are currently engaging in a bitchfest about their three elder brothers, whining about their treatment. It’s pretty amusing.

“...I don’t—I don’t really care who Lucifer loves most, honestly,” Satan slurs. “But—but I totally agree with—with the part about him being an **idiot.** He’s such a **bastard!** He’s—he’s always talking down to me, you know? Like...he thinks he’s so great.” The Avatar of Wrath takes another swig of his Demonus. “But—but we, we know better. We all saw Salomé wreck him...!” He bursts into drunken snickers at the memory.

Salome. Where is Salome?

She’d vanished with Abyzou and Meridiana just as they’d come in and hadn't been seen since. While Simeon continues to observe the bitchfest, Solomon finds himself checking Devilgram: there’s a new post from Abyzou’s story, a picture of the succubus and the human in what he’s assuming is Salome’s bedroom, facing the mirror. Abyzou herself is lying down on the floor behind the pair. Salome is on her knees with what appears to be a Catholic pallium wrapped around her neck and shoulders in the medieval fashion, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar in shock as she looks at the item being placed on her head by Meridiana’s hands. It’s a papal tiara—a small one that's not nearly as extravagant as the ones he knows are out there in the human world, but considering who exactly Meridiana is associated with...and now that he’s thinking about it, Salome’s first language...

 _Oh,_ **_that’s_ **_just weird._

He happens to glance up from his D.D.D. just then, to catch Abyzou flipping him off and sticking out her tongue as Meridiana hurriedly pushes her along towards the door. Both demonesses are stumbling, and look heavily disoriented. _They must’ve taken something_ , Solomon figures. _And if they did, Salome probably did too..._ That’s not safe, for her to be alone and possibly intoxicated, at a party surrounded by demons, even though she can certainly fend for herself. And even if she isn’t...well, this is a good chance for him to ask her more about her ability and get to know her better before they all go on that camping trip this weekend.

The sorcerer heads in the direction he saw Abyzou and Meridiana come from. It takes him through the dining room and into the kitchen, and then further, he sees a door. He pushes it—it’s unlocked. _Tsk, tsk, Salome._

“Salome?” he says as he enters the room, looking around. It’s totally empty, but there are signs of life: her bed is slightly rumpled, the chairs at the dining table (why does she have a whole dining room set and a _tree_ in here?) are pulled out, there are two mostly-empty plates of food and cups present, and one of her boots is discarded near the mirror. He hears a noise from the area around the corner behind the tree, and when he rounds the corner he finds the young woman herself. The door to her bathroom is flung open, and she’s sitting **fully clothed in the running bathtub;** arms crossed over her chest and head tilted back, eyes closed with one leg, wearing the other Moncler boot, thrown over the side. _Is she not going to be bothered by wet clothes?_ He knocks on the door to alert her to his presence, to which she opens her eyes, turns to face him, and excitedly waves at him to come closer, which he does.

“Hiiiii, Sa-lo-mon!”

He pauses incredulously. “...that’s not...” Now that they’re closer, Solomon can get a better look at her face, and notices her pupils are blown out unnaturally wide. Her head is also slightly lolling to the side, and she’s breathing somewhat heavily. She’s very clearly intoxicated, just like Abyzou and Meridiana had been. “...are you quite alright?” 

“Me...? ‘m fine...Salmoooooon.”

“Right, now you’re just doing this on purpose,” the sorcerer says amusedly, coming to rest on one knee by the side of the tub, resting his arm on the edge. “What did you take?”

“Mmm...secret?” she asks, raising a finger to her lips, and he nods. “Some, some...kinda...fluffy blue mushroom. Really fluffy. Fo-foo-foooofy. Abyzou said it was nym...Nymph...”

His eyebrows shoot up as he moves to turn off the running water before the tub overflows. _Where did Abyzou even_ ** _find_ **_those?_ They’re extremely rare, and he’d been looking for some _forever—_ not to take himself _(never again)_ , but to use in some experimental potions he’d been thinking up. “Nymph’s Breath?” 

“Mmmhmm...so shhh...but me, me, I’m...I’m fine, it didn’t...didn’t do shit, and I’m just...chilling, you know, know...Monsolo?”

He cackles in spite of himself. She’s absolutely **gone.** “Come on, do better, that’s my Devilgram handle.”

« Uh....ooh! Ooh! _Mon soleil!_ »

Now _that_ catches him off-guard. _My sun._ “...that one’s alright,” he assents, to which she grins widely and pumps her arms in the air. Her hoodie rises as she raises her arms above her head, and he notices that she has _Beelzebub’s_ pact mark on her stomach, right above her navel.

And he also happens to notice that evidently, she’s not wearing a normal-length shirt under said hoodie.

« _...Illumines mes jours, mes nuits..._ I caaaaaan’t remember the fuckin’ wooooords...”

“Someone’s been **busy,”** he interrupts her stupefied singing, pointing at Beelzebub’s pact mark, finger just against the water. She blinks cluelessly up at him for a solid minute before finally following his gaze, only to hurriedly yank her sweater back down to cover her stomach and hiss out « Vieux cochon! »

“...did you just call me **an old man?”** He decides to ignore the _other_ part of that phrase. “You wound me, Salome. I like to think I keep myself looking very young...”

“Mmmmmh...now, show...show me yours. Wanna see.”

“...you want to see my pact marks?” She nods. It’s a harmless request. “Let me see Levi’s first,” Salome arches an eyebrow but complies, clumsily grasping the front of the left side of her hoodie and pulling downwards to reveal Levi’s pact mark below her collarbone, the side of that gold chain she wears at RAD, and a sports bra strap. No shirt under that hoodie at all, apparently. “Your turn, your turn,” she whines, letting go of her sweater and grasping his hand resting on the side of the tub.

Solomon laughs. “Just like a kid...alright, alright.” He tugs up the sleeve of his shirt all the way up to his bicep, revealing a multitude of pact marks, watching as her jaw literally falls open. Then, she whistles lowly. “...I...okay, I...I’m...okay. Whew. _Yes_.” 

“Salome, I mean no offense, but I don’t think you’re okay right now.”

“Mmmmh...” She lets go of his hand and taps on his closest pact mark on the same arm (Ornais’s), slightly pulling him towards her. “Can I...?” He nods silently. “Go ahead.”

Her fingers ghost over the marks on his forearm for several moments in silence, slowly mouthing the names inked into his skin, and as he watches, he suddenly realizes that this sensation is familiar to him. It's the same familiarity he felt watching the candlelight flicker in Salome's eyes in the hall.

It's not a bad feeling at all.

"And...you've got these all over...?"

"Salome, while I'm not necessarily averse to showing you...the door is open, and I'd hate for your housemates to get the wrong idea."

She splashes him with her free hand in indignation. “Nasty, nasty!” He laughs again, and her face softens. "Seriously, though, like, they...they suit you. Like...really well. _Daaaaamn._ "

"Thank you..." Her hand, while it's stopped tracing the marks on his skin, remains touching his forearm. Her green eyes, pupils still blown out wide, are vacantly staring at Ephippas's pact mark. "...are you still with me, Salome?"

"...you're just like me...you know that?"

He blinks down at her in surprise. "How do you mean?"

Salome slowly lifts her head, those wide green eyes blinking at him languidly. "Your...potential," she hums. He feels her fingers begin to move across his marks again, and he feels the small hairs on his skin stand up at her touch. "They say you're the greatest...sorcerer, and I don't...I don't doubt that...but you could be..."

 **Oh.** All amusement at her intoxicated state fades, replaced with careful intrigue.

"I could be what?" Solomon questions, leaning towards her. The hand that's not touching his arm rises from the water and up to her neck. He watches as she tugs something out halfway from under her sweater for him to see, and he goes rigid—the gold chain that has something hanging from it that he's never seen. The "something" is still concealed beneath her hoodie. _She’s been walking openly around with something that could fulfill ‘my potential’?_

"You're...you're meant for it, it...it moves...m-moves...toward you..." she murmurs, her head lolling towards him, the hand on his arm suddenly grasping him tightly. "It's like...see, it's like, natural selection. A lot of people were like...exposed, but they didn’t make it. But a few do. You're...you're one of them. I'm really...surprised you're not...not already..."

"Exposed to what?" the sorcerer asks as he moves closer, tentatively grasping her forearm just as she is holding him. The fact that both her bedroom and bathroom doors are open and the demon brothers could see them at any moment is the farthest thing from his mind. He has lived...well, to be frank, he's not exactly sure how old he is. But Salome and her power are uncharted waters, even for a man like him, and though he'd never tell her, it excites him to his core. A new world that he’d never noticed before, right under his nose. He feels young again, starry-eyed and ready to take on the world, like when he had first begun to learn magic. 

"The...the...ah, _fuck, words,_ " she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, green eyes blinking rapidly as she continues to play with the chain around her neck. "I could...I could _make you."_

"Make me what?"

 **"Make you,"** Salome hums. He belatedly realizes that she's slowly reclining in her bathtub, and dragging him down with her. _"Help you_...and it's not...it's not like it'd leave a mark. Do...do you even have space for anything else, anyway? Besides....your face and hands...hey, have...have you got any on your—"

"Forget my skin," he replies, a bit more hastily than he'd like. "What are you talking about, Salome? What could you help me with?"

Something changes in her expression then. She's now submerged in the tub up to her ears with her head tilted back and foot still hanging off the side (evidently she’s aware enough to know that it may not be waterproof), her pupils are still ridiculously dilated, but her face grows serious, and Solomon feels that sensation of her watching him through another pair of eyes. 

"The man...the man who made them...they say he wanted...the...the ‘power of the gods’...or some shit..." Then, suddenly, there's a sensation of something touching his cheek, and he tears his gaze away from Salome—there's nothing there, but it feels like a gentle hand, as if someone is standing behind him. Her _Stand._ Another hand touches his other cheek, and he allows his eyes to flutter closed at how strangely familiar and yet alien it all is, instinctively trying to lean into something that he cannot touch but can touch him. Suddenly, the hands clutch tightly at his face—not enough to hurt, but enough to get his attention—and force it downwards, and he has to grab onto the far end of the bathtub with his free hand to maintain his balance. Salome is now floating on her back in the bathtub, and his face is angled so he's directly above it, staring into her eyes. There's a smile dancing across her face and a sparkle in her eye, and the hand that is grasping his forearm pulls him in further still (most of his sleeve is wet, but he figures that's a problem for later), until his hand makes contact with the side of her neck so he can feel her pulse—as well as the gold chain she wears brushing against the back of his hand as it floats in the water.

He could swear something moves under her sweater.

The realization of **what** exactly she’s offering him hits him like a brick to the head.

"I could give you ‘that’, if you want me to," Salome drawls out, her gaze and voice strangely lucid. "I could lift the veil from your eyes. You, of all people..." Solomon's vaguely aware of noises from outside of her room, but pays them no mind. "...you could handle it. Make you a true god among men, gifted in magic and with your untapped spiritual energy brought to full potential. Aren't you curious—"

Can she actually do that? Can she really give him a Stand ability, just like the one she has? The world is empty of anything but them at this moment, yet Solomon knows that there's something she's not telling him. She hasn’t even said how to get it or what he has to do. There must be a price. **There's always a price—**

Something in her eyes changes as she finishes her offer, and he feels her pulse quicken. **_”— יְדִידְיָהּ—?”_ **

He goes stiff instantly, his eyes going wide. Her accent is absolutely _heinous,_ but she's pronounced it correctly, there's no doubt about it: she's said his other name, and in his mother tongue to boot. He hasn't heard it directly addressed to him in over a thousand years. But staring into those glittering green eyes, with a pair of invisible hands grasping his face from behind, he can't shake the feeling that, while the name left Salome’s lips... _Salome is not necessarily the one who said it._

"...who... _what_ are you?" He asks finally, looking for a hint in her face.

Her smile grows wider, and the hand playing with the chain lifts out of the water and grasps at his shoulder as she sits up in the lukewarm water pulling him _somehow even closer_ so now her mouth is literally pressed up against his ear and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and she giggles, **actually giggles,** and she’s going to tell him something and her breath is warm and _oh God_ he has so many questions—

**_“OI! SALOMÉ, WHERE ARE YA?!”_ **

Given the chance, Solomon is going to _strangle_ Mammon.

Salome then releases him, flopping back down into the water, and the invisible hands grasping his face vanish. He turns around to see Mammon enter the doorway, evidently having returned early from the Demon Lord’s castle. He can only imagine that the younger brothers are getting absolutely reamed out by Lucifer right now.

“Wh—Solomon! What’re ya doin’ alone with her, huh?” the white-haired demon demands as he storms in, and Solomon can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that, considering how much he’s apparently bitched and moaned about being in charge of her. For a moment, he wonders if they could be _involved_ in some capacity, but quickly dismisses the idea— _if she’s_ ** _your_ **_girl then why is she tracing_ ** _my_ **_pact marks in the bathtub and saying she’ll make_ ** _me_ **_a god among men?_

“Someone gave her Nymph’s Breath during the party, and I’m here to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself,” he replies evenly before turning back to where Salome’s head is now totally submerged in the water. “That’s no good—you’re not a fish, Salome,” he scolds her gently, pulling her back up.

 **_“I’m washing me in my clothes, bitch!”_ ** Salome howls before going into a coughing fit. Gone is the lucidity from her gaze, and as Mammon takes over in pulling Salome out of the bathtub and starts going on about how she’s _such a stupid human for taking drugs at a party in the Devildom_ and _who the hell gave her those dammit_ and _what if he hadn’t been here, huh,_ Solomon throws a towel over Salome’s shoulders, briefly wondering if the offer she had made him was just something brought on by the mushrooms. She’s acting just like she had before telling him that they were the same, except now she’s stumbling around while Mammon tries to keep her steady and off-key loudly singing something in French ( _“La mer, les a bercés, le long des golfes clairs...”_ ), and he doesn’t get the sense that she’s playing up her intoxication to throw off suspicion. That is, until several minutes later, when Simeon and Luke had come looking for him to leave and the older angel somehow breaks through her haze and convinces her to just go to bed and sleep off the mushrooms’ effects, wrapped in multiple towels. Solomon’s the last one to leave her room after she agrees, and as he calls out a goodnight, beginning to close the door...

...the clarity returns to her face for the briefest of moments, and she winks at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all seen that obangye art of pactmark!solomon, because 👀 (for those who don't know: https://twitter.com/ObAngye/status/1244769605106704385). 
> 
> no but seriously, where the hell was mc during the party in "let your hair down"? it clearly couldn't have happened before the exchange program, because solomon and the angels were there. but where the fuck were we at?
> 
> the song salomé is singing in the mirror is from johnny hallyday's french version of "the house of the rising sun", called "le pénitencier." the verse hallucination!gerbert sings is the following verse, except it's a cover of the original "the house of the rising sun" in old french (by the amazing the_miracle_aligner on youtube and spotify), which is what would've been spoken when meridiana was hanging around w/ gerbert in the human world.
> 
> also, that bit in italian comes from the music video for the song "miracle aligner" by the last shadowpuppets (which includes the lead singer from arctic monkeys).
> 
> as always, if i fucked up any of the french, please let me know! i really appreciate it!  
> \--  
> Abyzou a apporté quelques...trucs spéciaux, tu sais? = Abyzou brought some...special stuff, you know?  
> Salomé, ne fais pas ce visage, ils ne pourrissent pas. Ça va. Ils deviennent plus puissants avec l'âge, comme le vin. = Salomé, don’t make that face, they don’t rot. It’s okay. They get more potent with age, like wine.  
> Pourrait-on la voir? = May we see it?  
> Oui, donne moi une minute... = Yeah, give me a minute.  
> C'est un décolleté très bas = That's a really low neckline.  
> Sur cette photo, il semble que vous et Béatrice êtes ses copines. = In that photo, it looks like you and Beatrice are _his_ girlfriends.  
> Ah, non. Notre relation était comme ça... = Ah, no. Our relationship was more like...  
> Je t'emmène faire du shopping lundi, après les cours. = I'll take you shopping Monday, after class.  
> Vraiment? Merci beaucoup! = Really? Thanks so much!  
> Mets-toi à genoux. = Get on your knees.  
> Vieux cochon! = Dirty old man! (lit. Old pig!)  
> \--  
> cos'è questo? = what is this?  
> Questo...si tratta di un tentativo di estrarre la verità...all’incirca. = This...is an attempt to extract truth...approximately.


End file.
